!W 
 

IN OLE VIRGINIA. 
 
IN OLE VIRGINIA 
 
 OR 
 
 MARSE CHAN AND OTHER STORIES 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS NELSON PAGE 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 1887 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1887, BY 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 Press of J. J. Little & Co. 
 Astor Place, New York. 
 
Co 
 
 MY PEOPLE 
 
 THIS FRAGMENTARY RECORD 
 
 OF THEIR LIFE 
 
 IS DEDICATED 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 f 
 
 MARSE CHAN. A TALE OF OLD VIRGINIA . . i 
 
 " UNC' EDINBURG'S DROWNDIN'." A PLANTATION 
 ECHO 39 
 
 MEH LADY : A STORY OF THE WAR . . . .78 
 
 OLE 'STRACTED 140 
 
 " No HAID PAWN " . . . . . . .162 
 
 POLLY: A CHRISTMAS RECOLLECTION . . .187 
 
NOTE. 
 
 THE dialect of the negroes of Eastern Virginia differs totally from 
 that of the Southern negroes, and in some material points from that 
 of those located farther west. 
 
 The elision is so constant that it is impossible to produce the exact 
 sound, and in some cases it has been found necessary to subordinate 
 the phonetic arrangement to intelligibility. 
 
 The following rules may, however, aid the reader : 
 
 The final consonant is rarely sounded. Adverbs, prepositions, 
 and short words are frequently slighted, as is the possessive. The 
 letter r is not usually rolled except when used as a substitute for M, 
 but is pronounced ah. 
 
 For instance, the following is a fair representation of the peculi- 
 arities cited : 
 
 The sentence, " It was curious, he said, he wanted to go into the 
 other army," would sound : " 'Twuz cu-yus, he say, he wan'(t) (to) 
 go in(to) 'turr ah-my." 
 
MARSE CHAN. 
 
 A TALE OF OLD VIRGINIA. 
 
 ONE afternoon, in the autumn of 1872, 1 was rid- 
 ing leisurely down the sandy road that winds 
 along the top of the water-shed between two of the 
 smaller rivers of eastern Virginia. The road I was 
 travelling, following " the ridge " for miles, had just 
 struck me as most significant of the character of the 
 race whose only avenue of communication with the 
 outside world it had formerly been. Their once 
 splendid mansions, now fast falling to decay, ap- 
 peared to view from time to time, set back far from 
 the road, in proud seclusion, among groves of oak 
 and hickory, now scarlet and gold with the early 
 frost. Distance was nothing to this people ; time 
 was of no consequence to them. They desired but 
 a level path in life, and that they had, though the 
 way was longer, and the outer world strode by them 
 as they dreamed. 
 
 I was aroused from my reflections by hearing some 
 one ahead of me calling, " Heah ! heah whoo-oop, 
 heah!" 
 
 Turning the curve in the road, I saw just before 
 me a negro standing, with a hoe and a watering-pot 
 
2 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 in his hand. He had evidently just gotten over the 
 " worm-fence " into the road, out of the path which 
 led zigzag across the " old field " and was lost to 
 sight in the dense growth of sassafras. When I rode 
 up, he was looking anxiously back down this path 
 for his dog. So engrossed was he that he did not 
 even hear my horse, and I reined in to wait until he 
 should turn around and satisfy my curiosity as to 
 the handsome old place half a mile off from the 
 road. 
 
 The numerous out-buildings and the large barns 
 and stables told that it had once been the seat of 
 wealth, and the wild waste of sassafras that cov- 
 ered the broad fields gave it an air of desolation 
 that greatly excited my interest. Entirely oblivi- 
 ous of my proximity, the negro went on calling 
 " Whoo-oop, heah ! " until along the path, walking 
 very slowly and with great dignity, appeared a 
 noble-looking old orange and white setter, gray 
 with age, and corpulent with excessive feeding. 
 As soon as he came in sight, his master began : 
 
 " Yes, dat you ! You gittin' deaf as well as bline, 
 I s'pose ! Kyarnt heah me callin', I reckon ? 
 Whyn't yo' come on, dawg? " 
 
 The setter sauntered slowly up to the fence and 
 stopped, without even deigning a look at the speak- 
 er, who immediately proceeded to take the rails 
 down, talking meanwhile : 
 
 " Now, I got to pull down de gap, I s'pose ! Yo' 
 
Marse Chan. 3 
 
 so sp'ilt yo' kyahn hardly walk. Jes' ez able to git 
 over it as I is ! Jes' like white folks think 'cuz you's 
 white and I's black, I got to wait on yo' all de time. 
 Ne'm mine, I ain' gwi' do it ! " 
 
 The fence having been pulled down sufficiently 
 low to suit his dogship, he marched sedately through, 
 and, with a hardly perceptible lateral movement of 
 his tail, walked on down the road. Putting up the 
 rails carefully, the negro turned and saw me. 
 
 " Sarvent, marster," he said, taking his hat off. 
 Then, as if apologetically for having permitted a 
 stranger to witness what was merely a family affair, 
 he added : " He know I don' mean nothin' by what 
 I sez. He's Marse Chan's dawg, an' he's so ole he 
 kyahn git long no pearter. He know I'se jes' prod- 
 jickin' wid 'im." 
 
 " Who is Marse Chan ? " I asked ; " and whose 
 place is that over there, and the one a mile or two 
 back the place with the big gate and the carved 
 stone pillars ? " 
 
 " Marse Chan," said the darky, " he's Marse 
 Channin' my young marster; an' dem places dis 
 one's Weall's, an' de one back dyar wid de rock 
 gate-pos's is ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin's. Dey don' 
 nobody live dyar now, 'cep' niggers. Arfter de war 
 some one or nurr bought our place, but his name 
 done kind o' slipped me. I nuver hearn on 'im 
 befo' ; I think dey's half-strainers. I don' ax none 
 on 'em no odds. I lives down de road heah, a little 
 
4 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 piece, an' I jes' steps down of a evenin' and looks 
 arfter de graves." 
 
 " Well, where is Marse Chan ? " I asked. 
 
 " Hi! don' you know? Marse Chan, he went in 
 de army. I was wid im. Yo' know he warn* gwine 
 an' lef Sam." 
 
 " Will you tell me all about it ? " I said, dismount- 
 ing. 
 
 Instantly, and as if by instinct, the darky stepped 
 forward and took my bridle. I demurred a little ; 
 but with a bow that would have honored old Sir 
 Roger, he shortened the reins, and taking my horse 
 from me, led him along. 
 
 " Now tell me about Marse Chan," I said. 
 
 " Lawd, marster, hit's so long ago, I'd a'most for- 
 git all about it, ef I hedn' been wid him ever sence 
 he wuz born. Ez 'tis, I remembers it jes' like 'twuz 
 yistiddy. Yo' know Marse Chan an* me we wuz 
 boys togerr. I wuz older'n he wuz, jes' de same 
 ez he wuz whiter'n me. I wuz born plantin' corn 
 time, de spring arfter big Jim an* de six steers got 
 washed away at de upper ford right down dyar 
 b'low de quarters ez he wuz a bringin' de Chris'mas 
 things home; an' Marse Chan, he warn' born tell 
 mos' to de harves' arfter my sister Nancy married 
 Cun'l Chahmb'lin's Torm, 'bout eight years arfter- 
 woods. 
 
 " Well, when Marse Chan wuz born, dey wuz de 
 grettes* doin's at home you ever did see. De folks 
 
Marse Chan. 5 
 
 all hed holiday, jes' like in de Chris'mas. Ole 
 marster (we didn' call 'im ole marster tell arfter 
 Marse Chan wuz born befo' dat he wuz jes' de 
 marster, so) well, ole marster, his face fyar shine 
 wid pleasure, an' all de folks wuz mighty glad, too, 
 'cause dey all loved ole marster, and aldo' dey did 
 step aroun' right peart when ole marster was lookin* 
 at 'em, dyar warn' nyar han' on de place but what, 
 ef he wanted anythin', would walk up to de back 
 poach, an' say he warn' to see de marster. An' 
 ev'ybody wuz talkin' 'bout de young marster, an' 
 de maids an' de wimmens 'bout de kitchen wuz 
 sayin' how 'twuz de purties' chile dey ever see ; an* 
 at dinner-time de mens (all on 'em hed holiday) 
 come roun* de poach an' ax how de missis an' de 
 young marster wuz, an' ole marster come out on de 
 poach an' smile wus'n a 'possum, an' sez, ' Thankee! 
 Bofe doin' fust rate, boys ; ' an' den he stepped 
 back in de house, sort o' laughin' to hisse'f, an' in 
 a minute he come out ag'in wid de baby in he 
 arms, all wrapped up in flannens an' things, an' sez, 
 ' Heah he is, boys.' All de folks den, dey went up 
 on de poach to look at 'im, drappin' dey hats on de 
 steps, an' scrapin' dey feets ez dey went up. An* 
 pres'n'y ole marster, lookin' down at we all chil'en 
 all packed togerr down dyah like a parecel o' sheep- 
 burrs, cotch sight o' me (he knowed my name, 
 'cause I use' to hole he hoss fur 'im sometimes ; but 
 he didn' know all de chil'en by name, dey wuz so 
 
6 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 many on 'em), an' he sez, ' Come up heah.' So up 
 I goes tippin', skeered like, an' old marster sez, 
 ' Ain' you Mymie's son ? ' ' Yass, seh,' sez I. ' Well,' 
 sez he, ' I'm gwine to give you to yo' young Marse 
 Channin' to be his body-servant/ an' he put de 
 baby right in my arms (it's de truth I'm tellin' 
 yo' !), an' yo' jes' ought to a-heard de folks sayin', 
 ' Lawd ! marster, dat boy'll drap dat chile ! ' ' Naw, 
 he won't,' sez marster; ' I kin trust 'im.' And den 
 he sez : * Now, Sam, from dis time you belong to 
 yo' young Marse Channin' ; I wan' you to tek keer 
 on 'im ez long ez he lives. You are to be his boy 
 from dis time. An' now,' he sez, * carry 'im in de 
 house.' An' he walks arfter me an' opens de do's 
 fur me, an' I kyars 'im in my arms, an' lays 'im 
 down on de bed. An from dat time I was tooken 
 in de house to be Marse Channin's body-ser- 
 vant. 
 
 " Well, you nuver see a chile grow so. Pres'n'y 
 he growed up right big, an' ole marster sez he must 
 have some edication. So he sont 'im to school 
 to ole Miss Lawry down dyar, dis side o' Cun'l 
 Chahmb'lin's, an' I use' to go 'long wid 'im an' tote 
 he books an' we all's snacks ; an' when he larnt to 
 read an' spell right good, an' got 'bout so-o big, 
 ole Miss Lawry she died, an' ole marster said he 
 mus' have a man to teach 'im an' trounce 'im. So 
 we all went to Mr. Hall, whar kep* de school-house 
 beyant de creek, an' dyar we went ev'y day, 'cep 
 
Marse Chan. 7 
 
 Sat'd'ys of co'se, an' sich days ez Marse Chan din* 
 warn' go, an' ole missis begged 'im off. 
 
 " Hit wuz down dyar Marse Chan fust took no- 
 tice o' Miss Anne. Mr. Hall, he taught gals ez well 
 ez boys, an' Cun'l Chahmb'lin he sont his daughter 
 (dat's Miss Anne I'm talkin' about). She wuz a 
 leetle bit o' gal when she fust come. Yo' see, her 
 ma wuz dead, an' ole Miss Lucy Chahmb'lin, she 
 lived wid her brurr an' kep' house for 'im ; an' 
 he wuz so busy wid politics, he didn' have much 
 time to spyar, so he sont Miss Anne to Mr. Hall's 
 by a 'ooman wid a note. When she come dat day 
 in de school-house, an' all de chil'en looked at her 
 so hard, she tu'n right red, an' tried to pull her long 
 curls over her eyes, an' den put bofe de backs of 
 her little han's in her two eyes, an' begin to cry to 
 herse'f. Marse Chan he was settin' on de een' o' 
 de bench nigh de do', an' he jes' reached out an* 
 put he arm roun' her an' drawed her up to 'im. 
 An' he kep' whisperin' to her, an' callin* her name, 
 an' coddlin' her ; an' pres'n'y she took her han's 
 down an' begin to laugh. 
 
 " Well, dey 'peared to tek' a gre't fancy to each 
 urr from dat time. Miss Anne she warn' nuthin' 
 but a baby hardly, an' Marse Chan he wuz a good 
 big boy 'bout mos' thirteen years ole, I reckon. 
 Hows'ever, dey sut'n'y wuz sot on each urr an* 
 (yo' heah me!) ole marster an' Cun'l Chahmb'lin 
 dey 'peared to like it 'bout well ez de chil'en. Yo' 
 
8 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 see, Cun'l Chahmb'lin's place j'ined ourn, an' it 
 looked jes' ez natural fur dem two chil'en to marry 
 an* mek it one plantation, ez it did fur de creek to 
 run down de bottom from our place into Cun'l 
 Chahmb'lin's. I don' rightly think de chil'en 
 thought 'bout gittin' married, not den, no mo'n I 
 thought 'bout marryin' Judy when she wuz a little 
 gal at Cun'l Chahmb'lin's, runnin' 'bout de house, 
 huntin* fur Miss Lucy's spectacles ; but dey wuz 
 good frien's from de start. Marse Chan he use' to 
 kyar Miss Anne's books fur her ev'y day, an' ef de 
 road wuz muddy or she wuz tired, he use' to tote 
 her ; an' 'twarn' hardly a day passed dat he didn' 
 kyar her some'n* to school apples or hick'y nuts, 
 or some'n'. He wouldn' let none o' de chil'en 
 tease her, nurr. Heh ! One day, one o' de boys 
 poked he finger at Miss Anne, and arfter school 
 Marse Chan he axed 'im 'roun' hine de school-house 
 out o' sight, an' ef he didn' whop 'im ! 
 
 " Marse Chan, he wuz de peartes' scholar ole Mr. 
 Hall hed, an' Mr. Hall he wuz mighty proud o' 'im. 
 I don' think he use' to beat 'im ez much ez he did 
 de urrs, aldo' he wuz de head in all debilment dat 
 went on, jes' ez he wuz in sayin' he lessons. 
 
 "Heh! one day in summer, jes' fo' de school 
 broke up, dyah come up a storm right sudden, an' 
 riz de creek (dat one yo' cross' back yonder), an' 
 Marse Chan he toted Miss Anne home on he back. 
 He ve'y off'n did dat when de parf wuz muddy. 
 
Marse Chan. 9 
 
 But dis day when dey come to de creek, it had 
 done washed all de logs 'way. 'Twuz still mighty 
 high, so Marse Chan he put Miss Anne down, an* 
 he took a pole an' waded right in. Hit took 'im 
 long up to de shoulders. Den he waded back, an' 
 took Miss Anne up on his head an' kyared her 
 right over. At fust she wuz skeered ; but he tol* 
 her he could swim an' wouldn' let her git hu't, an* 
 den she let 'im kyar her 'cross, she hol'in' his han's. 
 I warn' 'long dat day, but he sut'n'y did dat thing. 
 
 " Ole marster he wuz so pleased 'bout it, he giv' 
 Marse Chan a pony ; an' Marse Chan rode 'im to 
 school de day arfter he come, so proud, an' sayin' 
 how he wuz gwine to let Anne ride behine 'im ; an' 
 when he come home dat evenin' he wuz walkin'. 
 ' Hi ! where's yo' pony ? ' said ole marster. ' I give 
 'im to Anne,' says Marse Chan. ' She liked 'im, an' 
 I kin walk.' * Yes,' sez ole marster, laughin', ' I 
 s'pose you's already done giv' her yo'se'f, an* jiex' 
 thing I know you'll be givin* her this plantation and 
 all my niggers.' 
 
 " Well, about a fortnight or sich a matter arfter 
 dat, Cun'l Chahmb'lin sont over an' invited all o' we 
 all over to dinner, an' Marse Chan wuz 'spressly 
 named in de note whar Ned brought ; an' arfter 
 dinner he made ole Phil, whar wuz his ker'ige- 
 driver, bring roun' Marse Chan's pony wid a little 
 side-saddle on 'im, an' a beautiful little hoss wid a 
 bran'-new saddle an' bridle on 'im ; an' he gits up 
 
io In Ole Virginia. 
 
 an' meks Marse Chan a gre't speech, an' presents 
 'im de little hoss ; an' den he calls Miss Anne, an' 
 she comes out on de poach in a little ridin' frock, 
 an' dey puts her on her pony, an' Marse Chan 
 mounts his hoss, an' dey goes to ride, while de 
 grown folks is a-laughin' an' chattin' an' smokin' 
 dey cigars. 
 
 " Dem wuz good ole times, marster de bes' Sam 
 ever see! Dey wuz, in fac' !, Niggers didn' hed 
 nothin' 't all to do jes' hed to 'ten' to de feedin' 
 an' cleanin' de hosses, an' doin' what de marster tell 
 'em to do ; an' when dey wuz sick, dey had things 
 sont 'em out de house, an' de same doctor come to 
 see 'em whar 'ten' to de white folks when dey wuz 
 po'ly. Dyar warn' no trouble nor nothin'. 
 
 " Well, things tuk a change arfter dat. Marse 
 Chan he went to de bo'din' school, whar he use' to 
 write to me constant. Ole missis use' to read me 
 de Jetters, an' den I'd git Miss Anne to read 'em 
 ag'in to me when I'd see her. He use' to write to 
 her too, an' she use' to write to him too. Den Miss 
 Anne she wuz sont off to school too. An' in de 
 summer time dey'd bofe come home, an' yo' hardly 
 knowed whether Marse Chan lived at home or over 
 at Cun'l Chahmb'lin's. He wuz over dyah constant. 
 'Twuz always ridin' or fishin' down dyah in de 
 river; or sometimes he' go over dyah, an' 'im an' 
 she'd go out an' set in de yard onder de trees ; she 
 settin' up mekin' out she wuz knittin' some sort o' 
 
Marse Chan. II 
 
 bright-cullored some'n', wid de grarss growin all up 
 'g'inst her, an' her hat th'owed back on her neck, 
 an* he readin' to her out books ; an' sometimes 
 dey'd bofe read out de same book, fust one an' den 
 todder. I use* to see 'em ! Dat wuz when dey wuz 
 growin' up like. 
 
 " Den ole marster he run for Congress, an' ole 
 Cun'l Chahmb'lin he wuz put up to run 'g'inst ole 
 marster by de Dimicrats ; but ole marster he beat 
 'im. Yo' know he wuz gwine do dat ! Co'se he 
 wuz ! Dat made ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin mighty 
 mad, and dey stopt visitin' each urr reg'lar, like dey 
 had been doin' all 'long. Den Cun'l Chahmb'lin he 
 sort o' got in debt, an' sell some o' he niggers, an' 
 dat's de way de fuss begun. Dat's whar de lawsuit 
 cum from. Ole marster he didn' like nobody to sell 
 niggers, an' knowin' dat Cun'l Chahmb'lin wuz sell- 
 in' o' his, he writ an' offered to buy his M'ria an' all 
 her chil'en, 'cause she hed married our Zeek'yel. 
 An' don* yo' think, Cun'l Chahmb'lin axed ole mars- 
 ter mo' 'n th'ee niggers wuz wuth fur M'ria! Befo' 
 old marster bought her, dough, de sheriff cum an' 
 levelled on M'ria an' a whole parecel o' urr nig- 
 gers. Ole marster he went to de sale, an' bid for 
 'em; but Cun'l Chahmb'lin he got some one to bid 
 'g'inst ole marster. Dey wuz knocked out to ole 
 marster dough, an' den dey hed a big lawsuit, an' 
 ole marster wuz agwine to co't, off an' on, fur some 
 years, till at lars' de co't decided dat M'ria belonged 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
12 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 to ole marster. Ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin den vvuz so 
 mad he sued ole marster for a little strip o' Ian' 
 down dyah on de line fence, whar he said belonged 
 to 'im. Evy'body knowed hit belonged to ole mars- 
 ter. Ef yo' go down dyah now, I kin show it to yo', 
 inside de line fence, whar it hed done bin ever 
 since long befo' Cun'l Chahmb'lin wuz born. But 
 Cun'l Chahmb'lin wuz a mons'us perseverin' man, 
 an' ole marster he wouldn' let nobody run over 'im. 
 No, dat he wouldn' ! So dey wuz agwine down to 
 co't about dat, fur I don' know how long, till ole 
 marster beat 'im. 
 
 " All dis time, yo' know, Marse Chan wuz agoin' 
 back'ads an' for'ads to college, an' wuz growed up a 
 ve'y fine young man. He wuz a ve'y likely gent'- 
 man ! Miss Anne she hed done mos* growed up 
 too wuz puttin' her hyar up like ole missis use' to 
 put hers up, an' 't wuz jes' ez bright ez de sorrel's 
 mane when de sun cotch on it, an' her eyes wuz 
 gre't big dark eyes, like her pa's, on'y bigger an' not 
 so fierce, an' 'twarn' none o' de young ladies ez 
 purty ez she wuz. She an' Marse Chan still set a 
 heap o' sto' by one 'nurr, but I don' think dey 
 wuz easy wid each urr ez when he used to tote 
 her home from school on his back. Marse Chan he 
 use' to love de ve'y groun' she walked on, dough, 
 in my 'pinion. Heh ! His face 'twould light up 
 whenever she come into chu'ch, or anywhere, jes' 
 like de sun hed come th'oo a chink on it suddenly. 
 
Marse Chan. 13 
 
 " Den ole marster lost he eyes. D' yo' ever heah 
 'bout dat ? Heish ! , Didn' yo' ? Well, one night 
 de big barn cotch fire. De stables, yo' know, wuz 
 under de big barn, an' all de hosses wuz in dyah. 
 Hit 'peared to me like 'twarn' no time befo' all de 
 folks an' de neighbors dey come, an' dey wuz a-totin' 
 water, an' a-tryin' to save de po' critters, and dey 
 got a heap on 'em out ; but de ker'ige-hosses dey 
 wouldn' come out, an' dey wuz a-runnin' back'ads 
 an' for'ads inside de stalls, a-nikerin' an' a-screamin', 
 like dey knowed dey time hed come. Yo' could 
 heah 'em so pitiful, an' pres'n'y old marster said to 
 Ham Fisher (he wuz de ker'ige-driver), * Go in dyah 
 an' try to save 'em ; don' let 'em bu'n to death.' 
 An' Ham he went right in. An' jest arfter he got 
 in, de shed whar it hed fus' cotch fell in, an' de 
 sparks shot 'way up in de air ; an' Ham didn' come 
 back, an' de fire begun to lick out under de eaves 
 over whar de ker'ige hosses' stalls wuz, an' all of a 
 sudden ole marster tu'ned an' kissed ole missis, who 
 wuz standin' nigh him, wid her face jes' ez white ez 
 a sperit's, an', befo' anybody knowed what he wuz 
 gwine do, jumped right in de do', an' de smoke 
 come po'in' out behine 'im. Well, seh, I nuver 
 'spects to heah tell Judgment sich a soun' ez de 
 folks set up ! Ole missis she jes' drapt down on her 
 knees in de mud an' prayed out loud. Hit 'peared 
 like her pra'r wuz heard ; for in a minit, right out 
 de same do', kyarin' Ham Fisher in his arms, come 
 
14 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 ole marster, wid his clo's all blazin'. Dey flung 
 water on 'im, an* put 'im out ; an', ef you b'lieve 
 me, yo' wouldn' a-knowed 'twuz ole marster. Yo' 
 see, he hed find Ham Fisher done fall down in de 
 smoke right by the ker'ige-hoss' stalls, whar he sont 
 him, an' he hed to tote 'im back in his arms th'oo 
 de fire what hed done cotch de front part o* de 
 stable, and to keep de flame from gittin' down 
 Ham Fisher's th'ote he hed tuk off his own hat and 
 mashed it all over Ham Fisher's face, an' he hed 
 kep' Ham Fisher from bein' so much bu'nt ; but he 
 wuz bu'nt dreadful! His beard an' hyar wuz all 
 nyawed off, an' his face an' han's an' neck wuz scor- 
 ified terrible. Well, he jes' laid Ham Fisher down, 
 an' then he kind o' staggered for'ad, an' ole missis 
 ketch' 'im in her arms. Ham Fisher, he warn' 
 bu'nt so bad, an' he got out in a month or two ; an' 
 arfter a long time, ole marster he got well, too ; but 
 he wuz always stone blind arfter that. He nuver 
 could see none from dat night. 
 
 " Marse Chan he corned home from college to- 
 reckly, an' he sut'n'y did nuss ole marster faithful 
 jes' like a 'ooman. Den he took charge of de plan- 
 tation arfter dat ; an' I use' to wait on 'im jes' like 
 when we wuz boys togedder ; an* sometimes we'd slip 
 off an' have a fox-hunt, an' he'd be jes' like he wuz 
 in ole times, befo' ole marster got bline, an' Miss 
 Anne Chahmb'lin stopt comin' over to our house, 
 an' settin' onder de trees, readin' out de same book. 
 
Marse Chan. 15 
 
 " He sut'n'y wuz good to me. Nothin' nuver 
 made no diffunce 'bout dat. He nuver hit me a 
 lick in his life an' nuver let nobody else do it, 
 nurr. 
 
 " I 'members one day, when he wuz a leetle bit 
 o' boy, ole marster hed done tole we all chil'en not 
 to slide on de straw-stacks ; an' one day me an' 
 Marse Chan thought ole marster hed done gone 
 'way from home. We watched him git on he hoss 
 an' ride up de road out o' sight, an' we wuz out in 
 de field a-slidin' an a-slidin', when up comes ole 
 marster. We started to run ; but he hed done see 
 us, an' he called us to come back ; an' sich a whup- 
 pin' ez he did gi' us ! 
 
 " Fust he took Marse Chan, an' den he teched 
 me up. He nuver hu't me, but in co'se I wuz a- 
 hollerin' ez hard ez I could stave it, 'cause I knowed 
 dat wuz gwine mek him stop. Marse Chan he 
 hed'n open he mouf long ez ole marster wuz tunin' 
 'im ; but soon ez he commence warmin' me an' I 
 begin to holler, Marse Chan he bu'st out cryin', an' 
 stept right in befo' ole marster, an' ketchin' dewhup, 
 sed: 
 
 " ' Stop, seh ! Yo' sha'n't whup 'im ; he b'longs 
 to me, an' ef you hit 'im another lick I'll set 'im 
 free ! ' 
 
 " I wish yo' hed see ole marster. Marse Chan he 
 warn' mo'n eight years ole, an' dyah dey wuz old 
 marster stan'in' wid he whup raised up, an' Marse 
 
1 6 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 Chan red an* cryin', hol'in' on to it, an' sayin* I 
 b'longst to 'im. 
 
 " Ole marster, he raise' de whup, an' den he drapt 
 it, an' broke out in a smile over he face, an' he 
 chuck* Marse Chan onder de chin, an' tu'n right 
 roun' an' went away, laughin' to hisse'f, an' I heah* 
 'im tellin* ole missis dat evenin', an' laughin' 'bout it. 
 
 " 'Twan' so mighty long arfter dat when dey fust 
 got to talkin' 'bout de war. Dey wuz a-dictatin' 
 back'ads an' for'ds 'bout it fur two or th'ee years 'fo' 
 it come sho' nuff, you know. Ole marster, he was a 
 Whig, an' of co'se Marse Chan he tuk after he pa. 
 *Cun'l Chahmb'lin, he wuz a Dimicrat. He wuz in 
 favor of de war, an' ole marster and Marse Chan dey 
 wuz agin' it. Dey wuz a-talkin' 'bout it all de time, 
 an' purty soon Cun'l Chahmb'lin he went about 
 ev'vywhar speakin' an' noratin' 'bout Ferginia ought 
 to secede ; an' Marse Chan he wuz picked up to talk 
 agin' 'im. Dat wuz de way dey come to fight de 
 duil. I sut'n'y wuz skeered fur Marse Chan dat 
 mawnin', an' he was jes* ez cool ! Yo' see, it hap- 
 pen so : Marse Chan he wuz a-speakin' down at de 
 Deep Creek Tavern, an' he kind o' got de bes' of ole 
 Cun'l Chahmb'lin. All de white folks laughed an* 
 hoorawed, an' ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin my Lawd ! I 
 t'ought he'd 'a' bu'st, he was so mad. Well, when it 
 come to his time to speak, he jes' light into Marse 
 Chan. He call 'im a traitor, an' a ab'litionis', an* I 
 don' know what all. Marse Chan, he jes' kep' cool 
 
Marse Chan. if 
 
 till de ole Cun'l light into he pa. Ez soon ez he 
 name ole marster, I seen Marse Chan sort o' lif up 
 he head. D' yo' ever see a hoss rar he head up right 
 sudden at night when he see somethin' comin' to'ds 
 'im from de side an' he don' know what 'tis ? Ole 
 Cun'l Chahmb'lin he went right on. He said ole 
 marster hed taught Marse Chan ; dat ole marster 
 wuz a wuss ab'litionis' dan he son. I looked at 
 Marse Chan, an' sez to myse'f : * Fo' Gord ! old 
 Cun'l Chahmb'lin better min', an' I hedn' got de 
 wuds out, when ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin 'cuse' old mars- 
 ter o' cheatin' 'im out o' he niggers, an' stealin' piece 
 o' he Ian' dat's de Ian' I tole you 'bout. Well, seh, 
 nex' thing I knowed, I heahed Marse Chan hit all 
 happen right 'long togerr, like tightnin' and thunder 
 when they hit right at you I heah 'im say : 
 
 " ' Cun'l Chahmb'lin, what you say is false, an' yo' 
 know it to be so. You have wilfully slandered one 
 of de pures' an' nobles' men Gcrd ever made, an' 
 nothin' but yo' gray hyars protects you.' 
 
 " Well, ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin, he ra'ed an' he 
 pitch'd. He said he wan' too ole, an' he'd show 
 'im so. 
 
 " * Ve'y well,' says Marse Chan. 
 
 " De meetin broke up den. I wuz hol'in* de 
 hosses out dyar in de road by de een* o' de poach, 
 an' I see Marse Chan talkin' an' talkin' to Mr. Gor- 
 don an' anudder gent'man, and den he come out an* 
 got on de sorrel an' galloped off. Soon ez he got 
 
1 8 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 out o' sight he pulled up, an' we walked along tell 
 we come to de road whar leads off to'ds Mr. Bar- 
 hour's. He wuz de big lawyer o' de country. Dar 
 he tu'ned off. All dis time he hedn' sed a wud, 'cep' 
 to kind o' mumble to hisse'f now and den. When 
 we got to Mr. Barbour's, he got down an' went in. 
 Dat wuz in de late winter; de folks wuz jes* be- 
 ginnin' to plough fur corn. He stayed dyar 'bout 
 two hours, an' when he come out Mr. Barbour come 
 out to de gate wid 'im an' shake han's arfter he got 
 up in de saddle. Den we all rode off. 'Twuz late 
 den good dark; an' we rid ez hard ez we could, 
 tell we come to de ole school-house at ole Cun'l 
 Chahmb'lin's gate. When we got dar, Marse Chan 
 got down an' walked right slow 'roun' de house. 
 Arfter lookin' roun' a little while an' tryin'de do' to 
 see ef it wuz shet, he walked down de road tell he 
 got to de creek. He stop' dyar a little while an' 
 picked up two or three little rocks an' frowed 'em 
 in, an' pres'n'y he got up an' we come on home. Ez 
 he got down, he tu'ned to me an', rubbin' de sorrel's 
 nose, said : ' Have 'em well fed, Sam ; I'll want 'em 
 early in de mawninV 
 
 " Dat night at supper he laugh an' talk, an' he set 
 at de table a long time. Arfter ole marster went to 
 bed, he went in de charmber an' set on de bed by 'im 
 talkin' to 'im an' tellin' 'im 'bout de meetin' an' e'vy- 
 thing ; but he nuver mention ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin's 
 name. When he got up to come out to de office in 
 
Marse Chan. ig 
 
 de yard, whar he slept, he stooped down an' kissed 
 'im jes' like he wuz a baby layin' dyar in de bed, an' 
 he'd hardly let ole missis go at all. I knowed some'n 
 wuz up, an' nexmawnin' I called 'im early befo' light, 
 like he tole me, an' he dressed an' come out pres'n'y 
 jes' like he wuz goin' to church. I had de hosses ready, 
 an* we went out de back way to'ds de river. Ez we 
 rode along, he said : 
 
 " ' Sam, you an' I wuz boys togedder, wa'n't we ? ' 
 " ' Yes/ sez I, ' Marse Chan, dat we wuz.' 
 " 'You have been ve'y faithful to me,' sez he, ' an' 
 I have seen to it that you are well provided fur. 
 You want to marry Judy, I know, an' you'll be able 
 to buy her ef you want to.' 
 
 " Den he tole me he wuz goin' to fight a duil, an' 
 in case he should git shot, he had set me free an' 
 giv' me nuff to tek keer o' me an' my wife ez longez 
 we lived. He said he'd like me to stay an' tek keer 
 o' ole marster an' ole missis ez long ez dey lived, an' 
 he said it wouldn' be very long, he reckoned. Dat 
 wuz de on'y time he voice broke when he said 
 dat; an' I couldn' speak a wud, my th'oat choked 
 me so. 
 
 " When we come to de river, we tu'ned right up 
 de bank, an' arfter ridin' 'bout a mile or sich a mat- 
 ter, we stopped whar dey wuz a little clearin' wid 
 elder bushes on one side an' two big gum-trees on 
 de urr, an' de sky wuz all red, an' de water down 
 to'ds whar the sun wuz comin' wuz jes' like de sky. 
 
2O In Ole Virginia. 
 
 " Pres'n'y Mr. Gordon he come, wid a 'hogany 
 box 'bout so big 'fore 'im, an' he got down, an* 
 Marse Chan tole me to tek all de hosses an* go 
 'roun' behine de bushes whar I tell you 'bout off 
 to one side ; an' 'fore I got 'roun' dar, ole Cun'l 
 Chahmb'lin an' Mr. Hennin an' Dr. Call come 
 ridin' from t'urr way, to'ds ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin's. 
 When dey hed tied dey hosses, de urr gent'mens 
 went up to whar Mr. Gordon wuz, an' arfter some 
 chattin' Mr. Hennin step' off 'bout fur ez 'cross dis 
 road, or mebbe it mout be a little furder ; an' den I 
 seed 'em th'oo de bushes loadin' de pistils, an* 
 talk a little while ; an' den Marse Chan an' ole 
 Cun'l Chahmb'lin walked up wid de pistils in dey 
 han's, an' Marse Chan he stood wid his face right 
 to'ds de sun. I seen it shine on him jes* ez it come 
 up over de low groun's, an' he look like he did 
 sometimes when he come out of church. I wuz so 
 skeered I couldn' say nothin'. Ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin 
 could shoot fust rate, an' Marse Chan he never 
 missed. 
 
 "Den I heared Mr. Gordon say, * Gent'mens, is 
 yo* ready ? ' and bofe of 'em sez, ' Ready,' jes' 
 so. 
 
 "An' he sez, * Fire, one, two' an' ez he said 
 ' one,' ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin raised he pistil an' shot 
 right at Marse Chan. De ball went th'oo his hat. 
 I seen he hat sort o* settle on he head ez de bullit 
 hit it, an' he jes' tilted his pistil up in de a'r an* 
 
Mqrse Chan. 21 
 
 shot bang ; an* ez de pistil went bang, he sez to 
 Cun'l Chahmb'lin, ' I mek you a present to yo' 
 fam'ly, seh ! ' 
 
 " Well, dey had some talkin' arfter dat. I didn't 
 git rightly what it wuz ; but it 'peared like Cun'l 
 Chahmb'lin he warn't satisfied, an' wanted to have 
 anurr shot. De seconds dey wuz talkin', an' 
 pres'n'y dey put de pistils up, an' Marse Chan an' 
 Mr. Gordon shook han's wid Mr. Hennin an' Dr. 
 Call, an' come an' got on dey hosses. An' Cun'l 
 Chahmb'lin he got on his horse an' rode away wid 
 de urr gent'mens, lookin' like he did de day befo' 
 when all de people laughed at 'im. 
 
 " I b'lieve ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin Wan' to shoot 
 Marse Chan, anyway! 
 
 " We come on home to breakfast, I totin* de box 
 wid de pistils befo' me on de roan. Would you 
 b'lieve me, seh, Marse Chan he nuver said a wud 
 'bout it to ole marster or nobody. Ole missis didn' 
 fin' out 'bout it for mo'n a month, an' den, Lawd ! 
 how she did cry and kiss Marse Chan ; an' ole mars- 
 ter, aldo* he never say much, he wuz jes' ez please' 
 ez ole missis. He call' me in de room an' made me 
 tole 'im all 'bout it, an' when I got th'oo he gi' me 
 five dollars an' a pyar of breeches. 
 
 " But ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin he nuver did furgive 
 Marse Chan, an' Miss Anne she got mad too. Wim- 
 mens is mons'us onreasonable nohow. Dey's jes' 
 like a catfish : you can n' tek hole on 'em like 
 
22 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 udder folks, an' when you gits 'm yo' can n' always 
 hole 'em. 
 
 "What meks me think so? Heaps o' things 
 dis : Marse Chan he done gi' Miss Anne her pa jes' 
 ez good ez I gi' Marse Chan's dawg sweet 'taters, 
 an' she git mad wid 'im ez if he hed kill 'im 'stid o' 
 sen'in' 'im back to her dat mawnin' whole an' soun*. 
 B'lieve me ! she wouldn' even speak to him arfter 
 dat! 
 
 " Don' I 'member dat mawnin' ! 
 
 " We wuz gwine fox-huntin', 'bout six weeks or 
 sich a matter arfter de duil, an' we met Miss Anne 
 ridin' 'long wid anurr lady an' two gent'mens 
 whar wuz stayin' at her house. Dyar wuz always 
 some one or nurr dyar co'ting her. Well, dat 
 mawnin' we meet 'em right in de road. 'Twuz de 
 fust time Marse Chan had see her sence de duil, an' 
 he raises he hat ez he pahss, an' she looks right at 
 'im wid her head up in de yair like she nuver see 
 'im befo' in her born days ; an' when she comes by 
 me, she sez, ' Good-mawnin', Sam ! ' Gord ! I nuv- 
 er see nuthin' like de look dat come on Marse 
 Chan's face when she pahss 'im like dat. He gi' de 
 sorrel a pull dat fotch 'im back settin* down in de 
 san' on he handles. He ve'y lips wuz white. I 
 tried to keep up wid 'im, but 'twarn' no use. He 
 sont me back home pres'n'y, an' he rid on. I sez to 
 myself, ' Cun'l Chahmb'lin, don' yo' meet Marse 
 Chan dis mawnin'. He ain' bin lookin' 'roun' de ole 
 
Marse Chan. 23 
 
 school-house, whar he an' Miss Anne use' to go to 
 school to ole Mr. Hall together, fur nuffin'. He 
 won' stan' no prodjickin' to-day/ 
 
 " He nuver come home dat night tell 'way late, 
 an' ef he'd been fox-huntin' it mus' ha' been de ole 
 red whar lives down in de greenscum mashes he'd 
 been chasin'. De way de sorrel wuz gormed up wid 
 sweat an' mire sut'n'y did hu't me. He walked up 
 to de stable wid he head down all de way, an' I'se 
 seen 'im go eighty miles of a winter day, an' prance 
 into de stable at night ez fresh ez ef he hed jes' can- 
 tered over to ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin's to supper. I 
 nuver seen a hoss beat so sence I knowed de fet- 
 lock from de fo'lock, an' bad ez he wuz he wan' ez 
 bad ez Marse Chan. 
 
 " Whew ! he didn' git over dat thing, seh he 
 nuver did git over it. 
 
 " De war come on jes' den, an Marse Chan wuz 
 elected cap'n ; but he wouldn' tek it. He said Fir- 
 ginia hadn' seceded, an' he wuz gwine stan' by her. 
 Den dey 'lected Mr. Gordon cap'n. 
 
 " I sut'n'y did wan' Marse Chan to tek de place, 
 cuz I knowed he wuz gwine tek me wid 'im. He 
 wan' gwine widout Sam. An' beside, he look so po' 
 an' thin, I thought he wuz gwine die. 
 
 " Of co'se, ole missis she heared 'bout it, an' she 
 met Miss Anne in de road, an' cut her jes' like Miss 
 Anne cut Marse Chan. 
 
 " Ole missis, she wuz proud ez anybody ! So we 
 
24 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 wuz mo* strangers dan ef we hadn' live' in a hun- 
 derd miles of each urr. An' Marse Chan he wuz 
 gittin' thinner an* thinner, an' Firginia she come out, 
 an' den Marse Chan he went to Richmond an' listed, 
 an' come back an' sey he wuz a private, an' he didn' 
 know whe'r he could tek me or not. He writ to 
 Mr. Gordon, hows'ever, an' 'twuz 'cided dat when he 
 went I wuz to go 'long an' wait on him an* de cap'n 
 too. I didn' min' dat, yo' know, long ez I could go 
 wid Marse Chan, an' I like' Mr. Gordon, any- 
 ways. 
 
 " Well, one night Marse Chan come back from 
 de offis wid a telegram dat say, * Come at once,' so 
 he wuz to start nex' mawnin'. He uniform wuz all 
 ready, gray wid yaller trimmin's, an' mine wuz 
 ready too, an' he had ole marster's sword, whar de 
 State gi' 'im in de Mexikin war ; an' he trunks wuz 
 all packed wid ev'rything in 'em, an' my chist was 
 packed too, an' Jim Rasher he druv 'em over to de 
 depo' in de waggin, an' we wuz to start nex' mawnin' 
 'bout light. Dis wuz 'bout de las' o' spring, you 
 know. Dat night ole missis made Marse Chan 
 dress up in he uniform, an' he sut'n'y did look 
 splendid, wid he long mustache an' he wavin' hyar 
 an' he tall figger. 
 
 "Arfter supper he come down an' sez : 'Sam, I 
 wan' you to tek dis note an' kyar it over to Cun'l 
 Chahmb'lin's, an' gi' it to Miss Anne wid yo' own 
 han's, an' bring me wud what she sez. Don' let 
 
Marse Chan. 25 
 
 any one know 'bout it, or know why you've gone.' 
 <Yes, seh,' sez I. 
 
 " Yo' see, I knowed Miss Anne's maid over at ole 
 Cun'l Chahmb'lin's dat wuz Judy whar is my wife 
 now an' I knowed I could wuk it. So I tuk de 
 roan an' rid over, an' tied 'im down de hill in de 
 cedars, an' I wen' 'roun' to de back yard. 'Twuz a 
 right blowy sort o' night ; de moon wuz jes' risin', 
 but de clouds wuz so big it didn' shine 'cep' th'oo a 
 crack now an' den. I soon foun' my gal, an' arfter 
 tellin' her two or three lies 'bout herse'f, I got her 
 to go in an* ax Miss Anne to come to de do'. When 
 she come, I gi' her de note, an' arfter a little while 
 she bro't me anurr, an' I tole her good-by, an' 
 she gi' me a dollar, an' I come home an' gi' de letter 
 to Marse Chan. He read it, an' tole me to have de 
 hosses ready at twenty minits to twelve at de corner 
 of de garden. An* jes' befo* dat he come out ez ef 
 he wuz gwine to bed, but instid he come, an' we all 
 struck out to'ds Cun'l Chahmb'lin's. When we got 
 mos' to de gate, de hosses got sort o' skeered, an' I 
 see dey wuz some'n or somebody standin' jes' in- 
 side ; an' Marse Chan he jumpt off de sorrel an' 
 flung me de bridle and he walked up. 
 
 " She spoke fust ('twuz Miss Anne had done come 
 out dyar to meet Marse Chan), an' she sez, jes' ez 
 cold ez a chill, ' Well, seh, I granted your favor. I 
 wished to relieve myse'f of de obligations you placed 
 me under a few months ago, when you made me a 
 
26 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 present of my father, whom you fust insulted an' 
 then prevented from gittin' satisfaction.' 
 
 " Marse Chan he didn' speak fur a minit, an' den 
 he said : ' Who is with you ? ' (Dat wuz ev'y wud.) 
 
 " ' No one,' sez she ; ' I came alone.' 
 
 " ' My God ! ' sez he, 'you didn' come all through 
 those woods by yourse'f at this time o' night ? ' 
 
 "'Yes, I'm not afraid,' sez she. (An' heah dis 
 nigger ! I don' b'lieve she wuz.) 
 
 " De moon come out, an' I cotch sight o' her 
 stan 'in' clyar in her white dress, wid de cloak she 
 had wrapped herse'f up in drapped off on de groun', 
 an' she didn' look like she wuz 'feared o' nuthin*. 
 She wuz mons'us purty ez she stood dyar wid de 
 green bushes behine her, an' she hed jes' a few 
 flowers in her breas' right hyah and some leaves 
 in her sorrel hyar ; an' de moon come out an' shined 
 down on her hyar an' her frock, an' 'peared like de 
 light wuz jes' stan'in' off it ez she stood dyar lookin' 
 at Marse Chan wid her head tho'd back, jes' like dat 
 mawnin' when she pahss Marse Chan in de road 
 widout speakin' to 'im, an' sez to me, ' Good maw- 
 nin', Sam.' 
 
 " Marse Chan, he den tole her he hed come to 
 say good-by to her, ez he wuz gwine 'way to de war 
 nex' mawnin'. I wuz watchin' on her, an' I tho't, 
 when Marse Chan tole her dat, she sort o' started 
 an' looked up at 'im like she wuz mighty sorry, an* 
 'peared like she didn' stan' quite so straight arfter 
 
Marse Chan. 27 
 
 dat. Den Marse Chan he went on talkin' right fars' 
 to her; an' he tole her how he had loved her ever 
 sence she wuz a little bit o' baby mos', an' how he 
 nuver 'membered de time when he hedn' 'spected 
 to marry her. He tole her it wuz his love for her 
 dat hed made 'im stan' fust at school an' collige, 
 an' hed kep' 'im good an' pure ; an' now he wuz 
 gwine 'way, wouldn' she let it be like 'twuz in ole 
 times, an' ef he come back from de war wouldn' she 
 try to think on him ez she use' to do when she wuz 
 a little guirl? 
 
 " Marse Chan he had done been talkin' so serious, 
 he hed done tuk Miss Anne's han', an' wuz lookin' 
 down in her face like he wuz list'nin' wid his eyes. 
 
 " Arfter a minit Miss Anne she said something 
 an' Marse Chan he cotch her urr han' an' sez : 
 
 " ' But if you love me, Anne ? ' 
 
 " When he said dat, she tu'ned her head 'way 
 from 'im, an' wait' a minit, an' den she said right 
 clear : 
 
 "'But I don' love yoV (Jes' dem th'ee wuds !) 
 De wuds fall right slow like dirt falls out a spade 
 on a coffin when yo's buryin' anybody, an' seys, 
 4 Uth to uth.' Marse Chan he jes' let her hand 
 drap, an' he stiddy hisse'f 'g'inst de gate-pos', an' he 
 didn' speak torekly. When he did speak, all he sez 
 wuz : 
 
 " * I mus' see you home safe.' 
 
 " I 'clar, marster, I didn' know 'twuz Marse 
 
28 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 Chan's voice tell I look at 'im right good. Well, 
 she wouldn' let 'im go wid her. She jes' wrap* her 
 cloak 'roun' her shoulders, an' wen' 'long back by 
 herse'f, widout doin' more'n jes' look up once at 
 Marse Chan leanin' dyah 'g'inst de gate-pos* in he 
 sodger clo's, wid he eyes on de groun'. She said 
 'Good-by' sort o' sorf, an' Marse Chan, widout 
 lookin' up, shake han's wid her, an' she wuz done 
 gone down de road. Soon ez she got 'mos' 'roun 
 de curve, Marse Chan he followed her, keepin' under 
 de trees so ez not to be seen, an' I led de hosses on 
 down de road behine 'im. He kep' 'long behine her 
 tell she wuz safe in de house, an' den he come an* 
 got on he hoss, an' we all come home. 
 
 " Nex' mawnin' we all come off to j'ine de army. 
 An' dey wuz a-drillin' an' a-drillin' all 'bout for a 
 while an' dey went 'long wid all de res' o' de army, 
 an' I went wid Marse Chan an' clean he boots, an' 
 look arfter de tent, an' tek keer o' him an' de hosses. 
 An' Marse Chan, he wan' a bit like he use' to be. 
 He wuz so solum an' moanful all de time, at leas' 
 'cep' when dyah wuz gwine to be a fight. Den he'd 
 peartin* up, an' he alwuz rode at de head o' de corn^- 
 pany, 'cause he wuz tall ; an' hit wan' on'y in battles 
 whar all his company wuz dat he went, but he use* 
 to volunteer whenever de cun'l wanted anybody to 
 fine out anythin', an* 'twuz so dangersome he didn* 
 like to mek one man go no sooner'n anurr, yo' 
 know, an' ax'd who'd volunteer. He 'peared to like 
 
Marse Chan. 29 
 
 to go prowlin' aroun' 'mong dem Yankees, an' he 
 use* to tek me wid 'im whenever he could. Yes, 
 seh, he sut'n'y wuz a good sodger! He didn' mine 
 bullets no more'n he did so many draps o' rain. 
 But I use' to be povv'ful skeered sometimes. It jes' 
 use' to 'pear like fun to 'im. In camp he use' to be 
 so sorrerful he'd hardly open he mouf. You'd 'a' 
 tho't he wuz seekin', he used to look so moanful ; 
 but jes' le' 'im git into danger, an' he use' to be 
 like ole times jolly an' laughin' like when he wuz a 
 boy. 
 
 " When Cap'n Gordon got he leg shot off, dey 
 mek Marse Chan cap'n on de spot, 'cause one o' de 
 lieutenants got kilt de same day, an' turr one 
 (named Mr. Ronny) wan' no 'count, an' all de com- 
 pany said Marse Chan wuz de man. 
 
 "An' Marse Chan he wuz jes' de same. He didn' 
 never mention Miss Anne's name, but I knowed he 
 wuz thinkin' on her constant. One night he wuz 
 settin' by de fire in camp, an' Mr. Ronny he wuz 
 de secon' lieutenant got to talkin' 'bout ladies, an' 
 he say all sorts o' things 'bout 'em, an' I see Marse 
 Chan kinder lookin' mad; an' de- lieutenant men- 
 tion Miss Anne's name. He hed been courtin' Miss 
 Anne 'bout de time Marse Chan fit de duil wid her 
 pa, an' Miss Anne hed kicked 'im, dough he wuz 
 mighty rich, 'cause he warn' nuthin* but a half- 
 strainer, an' 'cause she like Marse Chan, I believe, 
 dough she didn' speak to 'im ; an' Mr. Ronny he got 
 
3O In Ole Virginia. 
 
 drunk, an* 'cause Cun'l Chahmb'lin tole 'im not to 
 come dyah no more, he got mighty mad. An' dat 
 evenin' I'se tellin' yo' 'bout, he wuz talkin', an' he 
 mention' Miss Anne's name. I see Marse Chan tu'n 
 he eye 'roun' on 'im an' keep it on he face, and 
 pres'n'y Mr. Ronny said he wuz gwine hev some fun 
 dyah yit. He didn' mention her name dat time; 
 but he said dey wuz all on 'em a parecel of stuck- 
 up 'risticrats, an' her pa wan' no gent'man anyway, 
 
 an' I don' know what he wuz gwine say (he 
 
 nuver said it), fur ez he got dat far Marse Chan riz 
 up an' hit 'im a crack, an' he fall like he hed been 
 hit wid a fence-rail. He challenged Marse Chan to 
 fight a duil, an' Marse Chan he excepted de chal- 
 lenge, an' dey wuz gwine fight ; but some on 'em 
 tole 'im Marse Chan wan' gwine mek a present o' 
 him to his fam'ly, an' he got somebody to bre'k up 
 de duil ; twan' nuthin' dough, but he wuz 'fred to 
 fight Marse Chan. An' purty soon he lef de com- 
 p'ny. 
 
 "Well, I got one o' de gent'mens to write Judy a 
 letter for me, an' I tole her all 'bout de fight, an' 
 how Marse Chan knock Mr. Ronny over fur speakin' 
 discontemptuous o' Cun'l Chahmb'lin, an' I tole her 
 how Marse Chan wuz a-dyin' fur love o' Miss Anne. 
 An' Judy she gits Miss Anne to read de letter fur 
 her. Den Miss Anne she tells her pa, an' you 
 mind, Judy tells me all dis arfterwards, an' she say 
 when Cun'l Chahmb'lin hear 'bout it, he wuz set- 
 
Marse Chan. 31 
 
 tin' on de poach, an' he set still a good while, an' 
 den he sey to hisse'f : 
 
 " ' Well, he earn' he'p bein' a Whig.' 
 
 " An' den he gits up an' walks up to Miss Anne 
 an' looks at her right hard; an' Miss Anne she hed 
 done tu'n away her haid an' wuz makin' out she wuz 
 fixin' a rose-bush 'g'inst de poach ; an' when her pa 
 kep' lookin' at her, her face got jes' de color o' de 
 roses on de bush, and pres'n'y her pa sez : 
 
 "'Anne!' 
 
 " An' she tu'ned roun', an' he sez : 
 
 " ' Do yo' want 'im ?' 
 
 " An' she sez, ' Yes,' an' put her head on he shoul- 
 der an' begin to cry ; an' he sez : 
 
 "'Well, I *von' stan' between yo' no longer. 
 Write to 'im an' say so.' 
 
 " We didn' know nuthin' 'bout dis den. We wuz 
 a-fightin' an' a-fightin' all dat time ; an' come one 
 day a letter to Marse Chan, an' I see 'im start to 
 read it in his tent, an' he face hit look socu'ious, an' 
 he han's trembled so I couldn' mek out what wuz 
 de matter wid 'im. An' he fol' de letter up an' wen* 
 out an' wen' way down 'hine de camp, an' stayed 
 dyah 'bout nigh an hour. Well, seh, I wuz on de 
 lookout for 'im when he come back, an', fo' Gord, ef 
 he face didn' shine like a angel's ! I say to myse'f, 
 *Um'm! ef de glory o' Gord ain' done shine on 
 'im ! ' An' what yo' 'spose 'twuz? 
 
 " He tuk me wid 'im dat evenin', an' he tell me 
 
32 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 he hed done git a letter from Miss Anne, an' Marse 
 Chan he eyes look like gre't big stars, an' he face 
 wuz jes' like 'twuz dat mawnin' when de sun riz up 
 over de low groun', an' I see 'im stan'in' dyah wid 
 de pistil in he han', lookin' at it, an' not knowin' 
 but what it mout be de lars' time, an* he done mek 
 up he mine not to shoot ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin fur 
 Miss Anne's sake, what writ 'im de letter. 
 
 " He for de letter wha' was in his han' up, an* 
 put it in he inside pocket right dyar on de lef 
 side ; an' den he tole me he tho't mebbc we wuz 
 gwine hev some warm wuk in de nex' two or th'ee, 
 days, an' arfter dat ef Gord speared 'im he'd git a 
 leave o' absence fur a few days, an' we'd go home. 
 
 " Well, dat night de orders come^an' we all hed 
 to git over to'ds Romney ; an' we rid all night till 
 'bout light ; an' we halted right on a little creek, an* 
 we stayed dyah till mos' breakfas' time, an' I see 
 Marse Chan set down on de groun' 'hine a bush an' 
 read dat letter over an' over. I watch 'im, an' de 
 battle wuz a-goin' on, but we had orders to stay 
 'hine de hill, an' ev'y now an' den de bullets would 
 cut de limbs o' de trees right over us, an' one o' dem 
 big shells what goes ' Awhar awhar awhar! ' 
 would fall right 'mong us ; but Marse Chan he didn' 
 mine it no mo'n nuthin' ! Den it 'peared to git 
 closer an' thicker, and Marse Chan he calls me, an* 
 I crep* up, an' he sez : 
 
 " ' Sam, we'se goin' to win in dis battle, an' den 
 
Marse Chan. 33 
 
 we'll go home an' git married ; an' Fse goin' home 
 wid a star on my collar.' An' den he sez, ' Ef I'm 
 wounded, kyar me home, yo' hear ? ' An' I sez, 
 'Yes, Marse Chan.' 
 
 " Well, jes' den dey blowed boots an' saddles, 'an 
 we mounted ; an' de orders come to ride 'roun' de 
 slope, an' Marse Chan's comp'ny wuz de secon', an' 
 when we got 'roun' dyah, we wuz right in it. Hit 
 wuz de wust place ever dis nigger got in. An' dey 
 said, * Charge 'em ! ' an' my king ! ef ever you see 
 bullets fly, dey did dat day. Hit wuz jes' like hail ; 
 an' we wen' down de slope (I long wid de res') an' 
 up de hill right to'ds de cannons, an' de fire wuz so 
 strong dyar (dey hed a whole rigiment o' infintrys 
 layin' down dyar onder de cannons) our lines sort o' 
 broke an' stop ; de cun'l was kilt, an' I b'lieve dey 
 wuz jes' 'bout to bre'k all to pieces, when Marse 
 Chan rid up an' cotch hoi' de fleg an' hollers, * Fol- 
 ler me ! ' an' rid strainin' up de hill 'mong de can- 
 nons. I seen 'im when he went, de sorrel four good 
 lengths ahead o' ev'y urr hoss, jes' like he use' to 
 be in a fox-hunt, an' de whole rigiment right arfter 
 'im. Yo' ain' nuver hear thunder ! Fust thing I 
 knowed, de roan roll' head over heels an' flung me 
 up 'g'inst de bank, like yo' chuck a nubbin over 
 'g'inst de foot o' de corn pile. An dat's what kep' 
 me from bein' kilt, I 'spects. Judy she say she 
 think 'twuz Providence, but I think 'twuz de bank. 
 O' co'se, Providence put de bank dyah, but how 
 3 
 
34 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 come Providence nuver saved Marse Chan ? When 
 I look' 'roun', de roan wuz layin' dyah by me, stone 
 dead, wid a cannon-ball gone 'mos' th'oo him, an 
 our men hed done swep' dem on t'urr side from 
 de top o' de hill. 'Twan' mo'n a minit, de sorrel 
 come gallupin' back wid his mane flyin', an' de rein 
 hangin' down on one side to his knee. ' Dyar ! ' 
 says I, ' fo' Gord ! I 'specks dey done kill Marse 
 Chan, an' I promised to tek care on him.' 
 
 " I jumped up an' run over de bank, an' dyar, wid 
 a whole lot o' dead men, an' some not dead yit, 
 onder one o' de guns wid de fleg still in he han', an* 
 a bullet right th'oo he body, lay Marse Chan. I 
 tu'n 'im over an' call 'im, ' Marse Chan ! ' but 'twan' 
 no use, he wuz done gone home, sho' 'nuff. I pick' 
 'im up in my arms wid de fleg still in he han's, an' 
 toted 'im back jes' like I did dat day when he wuz 
 a baby, an' ole marster gin 'im to me in my arms, 
 an' sez he could trus' me, an' tell me to tek keer on 
 'im long ez he lived. I kyar'd 'im 'way off de bat- 
 tlefiel' out de way o' de balls, an' I laid 'im down 
 onder a big tree till I could git somebody to ketch 
 de sorrel for me. He wuz cotched arfter a while, 
 an' I hed some money, so I got some pine plank 
 an' made a coffin dat evenin', an' wrapt Marse Chan's 
 body up in de fleg, an' put 'im in de coffin ; but I 
 didn' nail de top on strong, 'cause I knowed ole 
 missis wan' see 'im ; an' I got a' ambulance an' set 
 out for home dat night. We reached dyar de nex* 
 
Marse Chan. 35 
 
 evein', arfter travellin* all dat night an* all nex' 
 day. 
 
 " Hit 'peared like somethin' bed tole ole missis 
 we wuz comin' so ; for when we got home she wuz 
 waitin' for us done drest up in her best Sunday- 
 clo'es, an' stan'n' at de head o' de big steps, an' ole 
 marster settin' in his big cheer ez we druv up de 
 hill to'ds de house, I drivin' de ambulance an' de 
 sorrel leadin' 'long behine wid de stirrups crost over 
 de saddle. 
 
 " She come down to de gate to meet us. We took 
 de coffin out de ambulance an'kyar'd it right into de 
 big parlor wid de pictures in it, whar dey use* to 
 dance in ole times when Marse Chan wuz a school- 
 boy, an' Miss Anne Chahmb'lin use' to come over, 
 an* go wid ole missis into her chamber an' tek her 
 things off. In dyar we laid de coffin on two o' de 
 cheers, an' ole missis nuver said a wud ; she jes' 
 looked so ole an' white. 
 
 " When I had tell 'em all 'bout it, I tu'ned right 
 'roun' an' rid over to Cun'l Chahmb'lin's, 'cause I 
 knowed dat wuz what Marse Chan he'd V wanted 
 me to do. I didn' tell nobody whar I wuz gwine, 
 'cause yo' know none on 'em hadn' nuver speak to 
 Miss Anne, not sence de duil, an' dey didn' know 
 'bout de letter. 
 
 " When I rid up in de yard, dyar wuz Miss Anne 
 a-stan'in' on de poach watchin' me ez I rid up. I 
 tied my hoss to de fence, an' walked up de parf. 
 
36 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 She knowed by de way I walked dyar wuz some- 
 thin' de motter, an' she wuz mighty pale. I drapt 
 my cap down on de een' o' de steps an' went up. 
 She nuver opened her mouf ; jes' stan' right still 
 an' keep her eyes on my face. Fust, I couldn* 
 speak ; den I cotch my voice, an' I say, ' Marse Chan, 
 he done got he furlough/ 
 
 " Her face was mighty ashy, an* she sort o' shook, 
 but she didn' fall. She tu'ned roun' an' said, ' Git 
 me de ker'ige ! ' Dat wuz all. 
 
 "When de ker'ige come 'roun', she hed put on 
 her bonnet, an' wuz ready. Ez she got in, she sey 
 to me, ' Hev yo' brought him home?' an' we drove 
 'long, I ridin' behine. 
 
 " When we got home, she got out, an' walked up 
 de big walk up to de poach by herse'f. Ole missis 
 hed done fin' de letter in Marse Chan's pocket, wid 
 de love in it, while I wuz 'way, an' she wuz a-waitin' 
 on de poach. Dey sey dat wuz de fust time ole 
 missis cry when she find de letter, an' dat she 
 sut'n'y did cry over it, pintedly. 
 
 " Well, sell, Miss Anne she walks right up de 
 steps, mos' up to ole missis stan'in' dyar on de 
 poach, an' jes' falls right down mos' to her, on her 
 knees fust, an' den flat on her face right on de flo', 
 ketchin' at ole missis' dress wid her two han's so. 
 
 " Ole missis stood for 'bout a minit lookin' down 
 at her, an' den she drapt down on de flo' by her, an* 
 took her in bofe her arms. 
 
Marse Chan. 37 
 
 " I couldn' see, I wuz cryin' so myse'f, an* ev'y- 
 body wuz cryin'. But dey went in arfter a while in 
 de parlor, an* shet de do'; an' I heahd 'em say, Miss 
 Anne she tuk de coffin in her arms an' kissed it, an' 
 kissed Marse Chan, an' call 'im by his name, an' her 
 darlin', an' ole missis lef'her cryin' in dyar tell some 
 on 'em went in, an' found her done faint on de flo'. 
 
 " Judy (she's my wife) she tell me she heah Miss 
 Anne when she axed ole missis mout she wear 
 mo'nin' fur 'im. I don' know how dat is ; but when 
 we buried 'im nex' day, she wuz de one whar walked 
 arfter de coffin, holdin' ole marster, an' ole missis 
 she walked next to 'em. 
 
 " Well, we buried Marse Chan dyar in de ole 
 grabeyard, wid de fleg wrapped roun' 'im, an' he face 
 lookin' like it did dat mawnin' down in de low 
 groun's, wid de new sun shinin' on it so peaceful. 
 
 " Miss Anne she nuver went home to stay arfter 
 dat ; she stay wid ole marster an' ole missis ez long 
 ez dey lived. Dat warn' so mighty long, 'cause ole 
 marster he died dat fall, when dey wuz fallerin' fur 
 wheat I had jes' married Judy den an' ole missis 
 she warn' long behine him. We buried her by him 
 next summer. Miss Anne she went in de hospitals 
 toreckly arfter ole missis died ; an' jes' fo' Richmond 
 fell she come home sick wid de fever. Yo' nuver 
 would 'a' knowed her fur de same ole Miss Anne. 
 She wuz light ez a piece o' peth, an' so white, 'cep' 
 her eyes an' her sorrel hyar, an' she kep' on gittin' 
 
38 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 whiter an' weaker. Judy she sut'n'y did nuss her 
 faithful. But she nuver got no betterment ! De 
 fever an' Marse Chan's bein' kilt hed done strain 
 her, an' she died jes' fo' de folks wuz sot free. 
 
 " So we buried Miss Anne right by Marse Chan, 
 in a place whar ole missis hed tole us to leave, an' 
 dey's bofe on 'em sleep side by side over in de ole 
 grabeyard at home. 
 
 " An' will yo' please tell me, marster? Dey tells 
 me dat de Bible sey dyar won' be marryin' nor 
 givin' in marriage in heaven, but I don' b'lieve it 
 signifies dat does you ? " 
 
 I gave him the comfort of my earnest belief in 
 some other interpretation, together with several 
 spare u eighteen-pences," as he called them, for 
 which he seemed humbly grateful. And as I rode 
 away I heard him calling across the fence to his wife, 
 who was standing in the door of a small white- 
 washed cabin, near which we had been standing for 
 some time: 
 
 " Judy, have Marse Chan's dawg got home?" 
 
"UNC EDINBURGH DROWNDINV 
 
 A PLANTATION ECHO. 
 
 WELL, sub, dat's a fac dat's what Marse 
 George al'ays said. Tis hard to spile 
 Christmas anyways." 
 
 The speaker was " Unc' Edinburg," the driver 
 from Werrowcoke, where I was going to spend 
 Christmas ; the time was Christmas Eve, and the 
 place the muddiest road in eastern Virginia a 
 measure which, I feel sure, will, to those who have 
 any experience, establish its claim to distinction. 
 
 A half-hour before he had met me at the station, 
 the queerest-looking, raggedest old darky conceiva- 
 ble, brandishing a cedar-staffed whip of enormous 
 proportions in one hand, and clutching a calico let- 
 ter-bag with a twisted string in the other ; and with 
 the exception of a brief interval of temporary sus- 
 picion on his part, due to the unfortunate fact that 
 my luggage consisted of only a hand-satchel instead 
 of a trunk, we had been steadily progressing in 
 mutual esteem. 
 
 " Dee's a boy standin' by my mules ; I got de 
 ker'idge heah for you," had been his first remark on 
 
4O In Ole Virginia. 
 
 my making myself known to him. 4< Mistis say as 
 how you might bring a trunk." 
 
 I at once saw my danger, and muttered something 
 about " a short visit," but this only made matters 
 worse. 
 
 " Dee don' nobody nuver pay short visits dyah," 
 he said, decisively, and I fell to other tactics. 
 
 " You couldn' spile Christmas den noways," he re- 
 peated, reflectingly, while his little mules trudged 
 knee-deep through the mud. " 'Twuz Christmas den, 
 sho' 'nough," he added, the fires of memory smoul- 
 dering, and then, as they blazed into sudden flame, 
 he asserted, positively : " Dese heah free-issue nig- 
 gers don' know what Christmas is. Hawg meat an* 
 pop crackers don' meek Christmas. Hit tecks ole 
 times to meek a sho'-'nough, tyahin'-down Christ- 
 mas. Gord ! I's seen 'em ! But de wuss Christ- 
 mas I ever seen tunned out de best in de een," he 
 added, with sudden warmth, " an' dat wuz de 
 Christmas me an* Marse George an' Reveller all got 
 drownded down at Braxton's Creek. You's hearn 
 'bout dat ? " 
 
 As he was sitting beside me in solid flesh and 
 blood, and looked as little ethereal in his old hat 
 and patched clothes as an old oak stump would have 
 done, and as Colonel Staunton had made a world- 
 wide reputation when he led his regiment through 
 the Chickahominy thickets against McClellan's in- 
 trenchments, I was forced to confess that I had never 
 
"Unc Edinburg' s Drowndin'.' 1 41 
 
 been so favored, but would like to hear about it now ; 
 and with a hitch of the lap blanket under his outside 
 knee, and a supererogatory jerk of the reins, he began: 
 
 " Well, you know, Marse George was jes' eighteen 
 when he went to college. I went wid him, 'cause 
 me an' him wuz de same age ; I was born like on a 
 Sat'day in de Christmas, an' he wuz born in de new- 
 year on a Chuesday, an' my mammy nussed us bofe 
 at one breast. Dat's de reason maybe huccome we 
 took so to one nurr. He sutney set a heap o' sto' 
 by me ; an' I 'ain' nuver see nobody yit wuz good to 
 me as Marse George." 
 
 The old fellow, after a short reverie, went on : 
 
 " Well, we growed up togerr, jes as to say two 
 stalks in one hill. We cotch ole hyahs togerr, an' 
 we hunted 'possums togerr, an' 'coons. Lord ! he 
 wuz a climber ! I 'member a fight he had one night 
 up in de ve'y top of a big poplar tree wid a 'coon, 
 whar he done gone up after, an' he flung he hat 
 over he head ; an' do' de varmint leetle mo' tyah 
 him all to pieces, he fetch him down dat tree 'live ; 
 an' me an' him had him at Christmas. 'Coon meat 
 mighty good when dee fat, you know ? " 
 
 As this was a direct request for my judgment, I 
 did not have the moral courage to raise an issue, 
 although my views on the subject of 'coon meat are 
 well known to my family ; so I grunted something 
 which I doubt not he took for assent, and he pro- 
 ceeded : 
 
42 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 " Dee warn' nuttin he didn' lead de row in ; he 
 wuz de bes' swimmer I ever see, an' he handled a 
 skiff same as a fish handle heself. An' I wuz wid 
 him constant ; wharever you see Marse George, dyah 
 Edinburg sho', jes' like he shadow. So twuz, when 
 he went to de university ; 'twarn' nuttin would do 
 but I got to go too. Marster he didn' teck much to 
 de notion, but Marse George wouldn' have it no urr 
 way, an' co'se mistis she teck he side. So I went 
 'long as he body-servant to teck keer on him an' 
 help meek him a gent'man. An' he wuz, too. From 
 time he got dyah tell he cum 'way he wuz de head 
 man. 
 
 u Dee warn' but one man dyah didn' compliment 
 him, an' dat wuz Mr. Darker. But he warn' nut- 
 tin ! not dat he didn' come o' right good fambly 
 'cep' dee politics ; but he wuz sutney pitted, jes' 
 like sometimes you see a weevly runty pig in a 
 right good litter. Well, Mr. Darker he al'ays 'ginst 
 Marse George; he hate me an him bofe, an' he sut- 
 ney act mischeevous todes us ; 'cause he know he 
 warn' as we all. De Stauntons dee wuz de popu- 
 laritiest folks in Virginia ; an' dee wuz high-larnt 
 besides. So when Marse George run for de medal, 
 an' wuz to meek he gret speech, Mr. Darker he 
 speak 'ginst him. Dat's what Marse George whip 
 him 'bout. 'Ain' nobody nuver told you 'bout dat ? " 
 
 I again avowed my misfortune ; and although 
 it manifestly aroused new doubts, he worked 
 
"Unc' Edinburg' s Drowndin* " 43 
 
 it off on the mules, and once more took up his 
 story : 
 
 " Well, you know, dee had been speakin' 'ginst 
 one nurr ev'y Sat'dy night ; and ev'ybody knowed 
 Marse George wuz de bes' speaker, but dee give him 
 one mo' sho', an' dee was bofe gwine spread dee- 
 selves, an' dee wuz two urr gent'mens also gwine 
 speak. An' dat night when Mr. Darker got up he 
 meek sich a fine speech ev'ybody wuz s'prised ; an' 
 some on 'em say Mr. Darker done beat Marse 
 George. But shuh ! I know better'n dat ; an' Marse 
 George face look so curious ; but, suh, when he riz 
 I knowed der wuz somen gwine happen I wuz 
 leanin' in de winder. He jes step out in front an' 
 throwed up he head like a horse wid a rank kyurb 
 on him, and den he begin ; an' twuz jes like de river 
 when hit gits out he bank. He swep' ev'ything. 
 When he fust open he mouf I knowed twuz comin' ; 
 he face wuz pale, an' he wuds tremble like a fiddle- 
 string, but he eyes wuz blazin', an' in a minute he 
 wuz jes reshin'. He voice soun' like a bell ; an' he 
 jes wallered dat turr man, an' wared him out ; an' 
 when he set down dee all yelled an' hollered so you 
 couldn' heah you' ears. Gent'mans, twuz royal ! 
 
 " Den dee tuck de vote, an' Marse George got it 
 munanimous, an' dee all hollered agin, all 'cep' a few 
 o' Mr. Darker's friends. An' Mr. Darker he wuz de 
 second. An' den dee broke up. An' jes den Marse 
 George walked thoo de crowd straight up to him, 
 
44 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 an' lookin' him right in de eyes, says to him, ' You 
 stole dat speech you made to-night.' Well, suh, 
 you ought to 'a hearn 'em; hit soun' like a mill-dam. 
 You couldn' heah nuttin 'cep' roarin', an' you couldn* 
 see nuttin 'cep' shovin' ; but, big as he wuz, Marse 
 George beat him ; an' when dee pull him off, do' he 
 face wuz mighty pale, he stan' out befo' 'em all, 
 dem whar wuz 'ginst him, an' all, an' as straight as 
 an arrow, an' say: 'Dat speech wuz written an' 
 printed years ago by somebody or nurr in Congress, 
 an' this man stole it ; had he beat me only, I should 
 not have said one word ; but as he has beaten 
 others, I shall show him up ! ' Gord, suh, he voice 
 wuz clear as a game rooster. I sutney wuz proud 
 on him. 
 
 " He did show him up, too, but Mr. Darker ain' 
 wait to see it ; he lef dat night. An' Marse George 
 he wuz de popularest gent'man at dat university. 
 He could handle dem students dyah same as a man 
 handle a hoe. 
 
 " Well, tvvuz de next Christmas we meet Miss 
 Charlotte an' Nancy. Mr. Braxton invite we all to 
 go down to spen' Christmas wid him at he home. 
 An' sich a time as we -had ! 
 
 11 We got dyah Christmas Eve night dis very 
 night jes befo' supper, an' jes natchelly froze to 
 death," he pursued, dealing in his wonted hyper- 
 bole, "an' we jes had time to git a apple toddy or 
 two when supper was ready, an' wud come dat dee 
 
" Unc Edinburgh Drowndirf." 45 
 
 wuz waitin' in de hall. I had done fix Marse 
 George up gorgeousome, I tell you ; and when he 
 walk down dem stairs in dat swaller-tail coat, an* 
 dem paten'-leather pumps on, dee warn nay one 
 dyah could tetch him ; he looked like he own 'em 
 all. I jes rest my mind. I seen him when he shake 
 hands wid 'em all roun', an' I say, ' Um-m-m ! he 
 got 'em.' 
 
 " But he ain' teck noticement o' none much tell 
 Miss Charlotte come. She didn' live dyah, had jes 
 come over de river dat evenin' from her home, 'bout 
 ten miles off, to spen' Christmas like we all, an' she 
 come down de stairs jes as Marse George finish 
 shakin' hands. I seen he eye light on her as she 
 come down de steps smilin', wid her dim blue dress 
 trainin* behind her, an' her little blue foots peepin' 
 out so pretty, an' holdin' a little hankcher, lookin' 
 like a spider-web, in one hand, an' a gret blue fan in 
 turr, spread out like a peacock tail, an' jes her 
 roun' arms an' th'oat white, an' her gret dark eyes 
 lightin' up her face. I say, ' Dyah 'tis ! ' and when 
 de oleCun'l stan' aside an' interduce 'em, an' Marse 
 George step for'ard an' meek he grand bow, an' she 
 sort o' swing back an' gin her curtchy, wid her dress 
 sort o' dammed up 'ginst her, an' her arms so white, 
 an' her face sort o' sunsetty, I say, * Yes, Lord ! Edin- 
 burg, dyah you mistis.' Marse George look like he 
 think she done come down right from de top o' de 
 blue sky an' bring piece on it wid her. He ain' 
 
46 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 nuver took he eyes from her dat night. Dee glued 
 to her, mun ! an' she well, do' she mighty rosy, an' 
 look mighty unconsarned, she sutney ain' hender 
 him. Hit look like kyarn nobody else tote dat fan 
 an' pick up dat hankcher skusin o' him ; an' after 
 supper, when dee all playin' blindman's-buff in de 
 hall I don' know how twuz but do' she jes as 
 nimble as a filly, an' her ankle jes as clean, an' she 
 kin git up her dress an' dodge out de way o' ev'y- 
 body else, somehow or nurr she kyarn help him 
 ketchin' her to save her life ; he al'ays got her corn- 
 dered ; an' when dee'd git fur apart, dat ain' nuttin, 
 dee jes as sure to come togerr agin as water is whar 
 you done run you hand thoo. An' do' he kiss ev'y- 
 body else under de mistletow, 'cause dee be sort o' 
 cousins, he ain' nuver kiss her, nor nobody else 
 nurr, 'cep' de ole Cun'l. I wuz standin' down at 
 de een de hall wid de black folks, an' I notice it 
 'tic'lar,^cause I done meckde 'quaintance o' Nancy; 
 she wuz Miss Charlotte's maid ; a mighty likely 
 young gal she wuz den, an' jes as impident as a fly. 
 She see it too, do' she ain' 'low it. 
 
 " Fust thing I know I seen a mighty likely light- 
 skinned gal standin' dyah by me, wid her hyah mos' 
 straight as white folks, an' a mighty good frock on, 
 an' a clean apron, an' her hand mos' like a lady, only 
 it brown, an' she keep on Vidin' her eyes twix me 
 an' Miss Charlotte; when I watchin' Miss Charlotte 
 she watchin' me, an' when I steal my eye 'roun' on 
 
" Unc* Edinburg' s Drowndiri '." 47 
 
 her she noticin' Miss Charlotte; an' presney I sort 
 o' sidle 'longside her, an' I say, ' Lady, you mighty 
 sprightly to-night/ An' she say she 'bleeged to be 
 sprightly, her mistis look so good ; an' I ax her 
 which one twuz, an' she tell me, ' Dat queen one 
 over dyah,' an' I tell her dee's a king dyah too, she 
 got her eye set for ; an' when I say her mistis tryin' 
 to set her cap for Marse George, she fly up, an' say 
 she an* her mistis don' have to set dee cap for no- 
 body; dee got to set dee cap an' all dee clo'es for 
 dem, an' den dee ain' gwine cotch 'em, 'cause dee 
 am' studyin' 'bout no up-country folks whar dee 
 ain' nobody know nuttin 'bout. 
 
 "Well, dat ouclaciousness so aggrivate me, I lite 
 into dat nigger right dyah. I tell her she ain' been 
 nowhar 'tall ef she don' know we all ; dat we wuz 
 de bes' of quality, de ve'y top de pot ; an' den I tell 
 her 'bout how gret we wuz ; how de ker'idges wuz 
 al'ays hitched up night an' day, an' niggers jes thick 
 as weeds; an' how Unc' Torm he wared he swaller- 
 tail ev'y day when he wait on de table ; and Marse 
 George he won' wyah a coat mo'n once or twice 
 anyways, to save you life. Oh ! I sutney 'stonish 
 dat nigger, 'cause I-wuz teckin up for de fambly, an* 
 I meek out like dee use gold up home like urr folks 
 use wood, an' sow silver like urr folks sow wheat ; 
 an' when I got thoo dee wuz all on 'em listenin', an' 
 she 'lowed dat Marse George he were ve'y good, 
 sho 'nough, ef twarn for he nigger; but I ain' tarri- 
 
48 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 fyin' myself none 'bout dat, 'cause I know she jes 
 projickin, an' she couldn' help bein' impident ef you 
 wuz to whup de frock off her back. 
 
 " Jes den dee struck up de dance. Dee had 
 wheel de pianer out in de hall, and somebody say 
 Jack Forester had come cross de river, an' all on 
 'em say dee mus' git Jack ; an' presney he come 
 in wid he fiddle, grinnin' and scrapin', 'cause he wuz 
 a notable fiddler, do' I don' think he wuz equal to we 
 all's Tubal, an' I know he couldn' tech Marse George, 
 'cause Marse George wuz a natchel fiddler, jes like 
 'coons is natchel pacers, an' mules is natchel kickers. 
 Howsomever, he sutney jucked a jig sweet, an' 
 when he shake dat bow you couldn' help you foot 
 switchin' a leetle not ef you wuz a member of de 
 chutch. He wuz a mighty sinful man, Jack wuz, 
 an' dat fiddle had done drawed many souls to tor- 
 ment. 
 
 " Well, in a minute dee wuz all flyin', an' Jack he 
 wuz rockin' like boat rockin' on de water, an' he 
 face right shiny, an' he teef look like ear o' corn he 
 got in he mouf, an' he big foot set 'way out keepin' 
 time, an' Marse George he was in de lead row dyah 
 too ; ev'y chance he git he tunned Miss Charlotte 
 'petchel motion, right hand across, an* cauliflower, 
 an' croquette dee croquette plenty o' urrs, but I 
 notice dee ain' nuver fail to tun one nurr, an' ev'y 
 tun he gin she wrappin' de chain roun' him ; once 
 when dee wuz ' prominadin-all ' down we all's een 
 
" Unc* Edinburgh Drowndin* " 49 
 
 o' de hall, as he tunned her somebody step on her 
 dress an* to' it. I heah de screech o' de silk, an' 
 Nancy say, ' O Lord ! ' den she say, ' Nem mine ! 
 now I'll git it ! ' an' dee stop for a minute for Marse 
 George to pin it up, while turrers went on, an' 
 Marse George wuz down on he knee, an' she look 
 down on him mighty sweet out her eyes, an' say, 
 ' Hit don' meek no difference,' an' he glance up an' 
 cotch her eye, an', jes 'dout a wud, he tyah a gret 
 piece right out de silk an' slipt it in he bosom, an' 
 when he got up, he say, right low, lookin' in her 
 eyes right deep, ' I gwine wyah dis at my weddin',' 
 an' she jes look sweet as candy ; an ef Nancy ever 
 wyah dat frock I ain' see it. 
 
 " Den presney dee wuz talkin' 'bout stoppin'. De 
 ole Cun'l say hit time to have prars, an' dee wuz 
 beggin' him to wait a leetle while; an' Jack For- 
 ester lay he fiddle down nigh Marse George, an' he 
 picked 't up an' drawed de bow 'cross it jes to try 
 it, an' den jes projickin' he struck dat chune 'bout 
 'You'll ermember me.' He hadn' mo'n tech de 
 string when you could heah a pin drap. Marse 
 George he warn noticin', an' he jes lay he face on de 
 fiddle, wid he eyes sort o' half shet, an' drawed her 
 out like he'd do some nights at home in dee moon- 
 light on de gret porch, tell on a sudden he looked 
 up an' cotch Miss Charlotte eye lean in' for'ards so 
 earnest, an' all on 'em list'nin', an' he stopt, an' dee 
 all clapt dee hands, an' he sudney drapt into a jig. 
 
 4 
 
50 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 Jack Forester ain' had to play no mo' dat night; 
 even de ole Cun'l ketched de fever, an' he stept out 
 in de flo', in he long-tail coat an' high collar, an* 
 knocked 'em off de l Snow-bud on de Ash-bank,' an* 
 'Chicken in de Bread-tray,' right natchel. 
 
 u Oh, he could jes plank 'em down ! 
 
 " Oh, dat wuz a Christmas like you been read 
 'bout ! An' twuz hard to tell which gittin cotch 
 most, Marse George or me ; 'cause dat nigger she jes 
 as confusin' as Miss Charlotte. An' she sutneywuz 
 sp'ilt dem days; ev'y nigger on dat place got he eye 
 on her, an' she jes az oudacious an' aggrivatin as jes 
 womens kin be. 
 
 " Dees monsus 'ceivin' critters, womens is, jes as 
 onreliable as de hind-leg of a mule ; a man got to 
 watch 'em all de time; you kyarn break 'em like 
 you kin horses. 
 
 u Now dat off mule dyah" (indicating, by a lazy 
 but not light lash of his whip the one selected for his 
 illustration), " dee ain' no countin' on her at all ; she 
 go 'long all day, or maybe a week, jes dat easy an' 
 sociable, an' fust thing you know you ain' know 
 nuttin, she done knock you brains out ; dee ain' no 
 'pendence to be placed in 'em 'tall, suh ; she jes as 
 sweet as a kiss one minute, an' next time she come 
 out de house she got her head up in de air, an' her 
 ears backed, an' goin' 'long switchin' herself like I 
 ain' good 'nough for her to walk on. 
 
 " ' Fox-huntin's?' oh, yes, suh, ev'y day mos' ; an' 
 
" Unc Edinburg' s Drowndiri '" 51 
 
 when Marse George didn' git de tail, twuz 'cause 
 twuz a bob-tail fox you heah me! He play de 
 fiddle for he pastime, but he fetched up in de saddle 
 dat he cradle ! 
 
 " De fust day dee went out I heah Nancy quoilin 
 'bout de tail layin' on Miss Charlotte dressin '-table 
 gittin' hyahs over ev'ything. 
 
 " One day de ladies went out too, Miss Charlotte 
 'mongst 'em, on Miss Lucy gray myah Switchity, 
 an' Marse George he rid Mr. Braxton's chestnut 
 Willful. 
 
 " Well, suh, he stick so close to dat gray myah, 
 he leetle mo' los' dat fox ; but, Lord ! he know what 
 he 'bout he monsus 'ceivin' 'bout dat he know de 
 way de fox gwine jes as well as he know heself ; an* 
 all de time he leadin' Miss Charlotte whar she kin 
 heah de music, but he watchin' him too, jes as nar- 
 row as a ole hound. So, when de fox tun de head 
 o' de creek, Marse George had Miss Charlotte on de 
 aidge o' de flat, an' he de fust man see de fox tun 
 down on turr side wid de hounds right rank after 
 him. Dat sort o' set him back, 'cause by rights de 
 fox ought to 'a double an' come back dis side : he 
 kyarn git out dat way; an' two or three gent'mens 
 dee had see it too, an' wuz jes layin de horses to de 
 groun' to git roun' fust, 'cause de creek wuz heap 
 too wide to jump, an' wuz 'way over you head, an 
 
 tiit cold as Christmas, sho 'nough ; well, suh, when 
 lee tunned, Mr. Clarke he wuz in de lead (he wuz 
 
52 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 ridin' for Miss Charlotte too), an' hit fyah set Marse 
 George on fire ; he am' said but one wud, ' Wait/ 
 an' jes set de chestnut's head straight for de creek, 
 whar de fox comin' wid he hyah up on he back, an* 
 de dogs ravlin mos' on him. 
 
 " De ladies screamed, an' some de gent'mens hol- 
 lered for him to come back, but he ain' mind ; he 
 went 'cross dat flat like a wild-duck; an' when he 
 retch de water he horse try to flinch, but dat hand 
 on de bridle, an' dem rowels in he side, an' he 
 'bleeged to teck it. 
 
 " Lord ! suh, sich a screech as dee set up ! But he 
 wuz swimmin' for life, an' he wuz up de bank an' in 
 de middle o' de dogs time dee tetched ole Gray 
 Jacket ; an' when Mr. Clarke got dyah Marse George 
 wuz stan'in' holdin' up de tail for Miss Charlotte to 
 see, turr side de creek, an' de hounds wuz wallerin' 
 all over de body, an' I don' think Mr. Clarke done 
 got up wid 'em yit. 
 
 " He cotch de fox, an' he cotch some'n' else be- 
 sides, in my 'pinion, 'cause when de ladies went up- 
 stairs dat night Miss Charlotte had to wait on de 
 steps for a glass o' water, an' couldn' nobody git it 
 but Marse George ; an' den when she tell him good- 
 night over de banisters, he couldn' say it good 
 enough ; he got to kiss her hand ; an' she ain' do 
 nuttin but jes peep upstairs ef anybody dyah lookin'; 
 an' when I come thoo de do' she juck her hand 'way 
 an' ran upstairs jes as farst as she could. Marse 
 
" Unc Edinburg' s Drowndin" 53 
 
 George look at me sort o' laughin', an' say : * Con- 
 found you ! Nancy couldn' been very good to you.' 
 An' I say, ' She le' me squench my thirst kissin' her 
 hand ; ' an' he sort o' laugh an' tell me to keep my 
 mouf shet. 
 
 " But dat ain' de on'y time I come on 'em. Dee 
 al'ays gittin' corndered ; an' de evenin' befo' we come 
 'way I wuz gwine in thoo de conservity, an' dyah 
 dee wuz sort o' hide 'way. Miss Charlotte she wuz 
 settin' down, an' Marse George he wuz leanin' over 
 her, got her hand to he face, talkin' right low an 
 lookin' right sweet, an' she ain' say nuttin ; an' pres- 
 ney he drapt on one knee by her, an' slip he arm 
 roun' her, an' try to look in her eyes, an' she so 
 'shamed to look at him she got to hide her face on 
 he shoulder, an' I slipt out. 
 
 " We come 'way next mornin'. When marster 
 heah 'bout it he didn' teck to de notion at all, 'cause 
 her pa dat is, he warn' her own pa, 'cause he had 
 married her ma when she wuz a widder after Miss 
 Charlotte pa died an' he politics warn' same as 
 ourn. ' Why, you kin never stand him,suh,' he said 
 to Marse George. * We won't mix any mo'n fire and 
 water ; you ought to have found that out at college ; 
 dat fellow Darker is his son.' 
 
 " Marse George he say he know dat ; but he on'y 
 de step-brurr of de young lady, an' ain' got a drap 
 o' her blood in he veins, an' he didn' know it when 
 he meet her, an' anyhow hit wouldn' meek any dif- 
 
54 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 fence; an' when de mistis see how sot Marse George 
 is on it she teck he side, an' dat fix it ; 'cause when 
 ole mistis warn marster to do a thing, hit jes good 
 as done. I don' keer how much he rar roun' an' say 
 he am' gwine do it, you jes well go 'long an' put 
 on you hat ; you gwine see him presney doin' it jes 
 peaceable as a lamb. She tun him jes like she got 
 bline-bridle on him, an' he ain' nuver know it. 
 
 " So she got him jes straight as a string. An' when 
 de time come for Marse George to go, marster he 
 mo' consarned 'bout it 'n Marse George ; he ain' 
 say nuttin 'bout it befo' ; but now he walkin' roun' 
 an' roun' axin mistis mo' questions 'bout he does 
 an* he horse an' all ; an' dat mornin' he gi' him he 
 two Sunday razors, an' gi' me a pyah o' boots an' a 
 beaver hat, 'cause I wuz gwine wid him to kyar he 
 portmanteau, an' git he shavin' water, sence marster 
 say ef he wuz gwine marry a Locofoco, he at least 
 must go like a gent'man ; an' me an' Marse George 
 had done settle it 'twixt us, cause we al'ays set bofe 
 we traps on de same hyah parf. 
 
 " Well, we got 'em, an' when I ax dat gal out on 
 de wood-pile dat night, she say bein' as her mistis 
 gwine own me, an' we bofe got to be in de same 
 estate, she reckon she ain' nuver gwine to be able to 
 git shet o' me ; an' den I clamp her. Oh, she wuz 
 a beauty ! " 
 
 A gesture and guffaw completed the recital of his 
 conquest. 
 
" Unc Edinburg' s Drowndiri " 55 
 
 "Yes, suh, we got 'em sho ! " he said, presently. 
 " Dee couldn' persist us ; we crowd 'em into de fence 
 an' run 'em off dee foots. 
 
 " Den come de 'gagement ; an' ev'ything wuz 
 smooth as silk. Marse George an' me wuz ridin' 
 over dyah constant, on'y we nuver did git over bein' 
 skeered when we wuz ridin' up dat turpentine road 
 facin' all dem winders. Hit 'pear like ev'ybody in 
 de wull 'mos' wuz lookin' at us. 
 
 " One evenin' Marse George say, ' Edinburg, d'you 
 ever see as many winders p'intin' one way in you' 
 life ? When I git a house,' he say, ' I gwine have 
 all de winders lookin' turr way.' 
 
 " But dat evenin', when I see Miss Charlotte come 
 walkin' out de gret parlor wid her hyah sort o' rum- 
 pled over her face, an' some yaller roses on her 
 bres, an' her gret eyes so soft an' sweet, an' Marse 
 George walkin' 'long .hinst her, so peaceable, like 
 she got chain roun' him, I say, 'Winders ain' nuttin.' 
 
 " Oh, twuz jes like holiday all de time ! An' den 
 Miss Charlotte come over to see mistis, an' of co'se 
 she bring her maid wid her, 'cause she 'bleeged to 
 have her maid, you know, an' dat wuz de bes' of 
 all 
 
 " Dat evenin', 'bout sunset, dee come drivin' up in 
 de big ker'idge, wid de gret hyah trunk strapped on 
 de seat behind, an' Nancy she settin' by Billy, an' 
 Marse George settin' inside by he rose-bud, 'cause 
 he had done gone down to bring her up ; an' marster 
 
56 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 he done been drest in he blue coat an' yallow west- 
 ket ever sence dinner, an' walkin' roun', watchin' up 
 de road all de time, an' tellin' de mistis he reckon 
 dee ain' comin', an ole mistis she try to pacify him, 
 an' she come out presney drest, an' rustlin' in her 
 stiff black silk an' all ; an' when de ker'idge come in 
 sight, ev'ybody wuz runnin' ; an' when dee draw up 
 to de do', Marse George he help her out an' 'duce 
 her to marster an' ole mistis ; an' marster he start 
 to meek her a gret bow, an' she jes put up her mouf 
 like a little gal to be kissed, an' dat got him. An' 
 mistis teck her right in her arms an* kiss her twice, 
 an' de servants dee wuz all peepin' an' grinnin'. 
 
 " Ev'ywhar you tun you see a nigger teef, 'cause 
 dee all warn see de young mistis whar good 'nough 
 for Marse George. Dee ain' gwine be married tell 
 de next fall, 'count o' Miss Charlotte bein' so young; 
 but she jes good as b'longst to we all now ; an' ole 
 marster an' mistis dee jes as much in love wid her 
 as Marse George. Hi! dee warn pull de house 
 down an' buil' it over for her ! An' ev'y han' on de 
 place he peepin' to try to git a look at he young 
 mistis whar he gwine b'longst to. One evenin' dee 
 all on 'em come roun' de porch an' send for Marse 
 George, an' when he come out, Charley Brown (he 
 al'ays de speaker, 'cause he got so much mouf, kin' 
 talk pretty as white folks), he say dee warn interduce 
 to de young mistis, an' pay dee bespects to her ; an' 
 presney Marse George lead her out on de porch 
 
" Unc Edinburgh Drowndiri V 57 
 
 laughin' at her, wid her face jes rosy as a wine-sap 
 apple, an' she meek 'em a beautiful bow, an' speak 
 to 'em ev'y one, Marse George namin' de names; 
 an' Charley Brown he meek Iier a pretty speech, an' 
 tell her we mighty proud to own her : an' one o' 
 dem impident gals ax her to gin her dat white frock 
 when she git married ; an' when she say, * Well, 
 what am I goin' wear?' Sally say, 'Lord, honey, 
 Marse George gwine dress you in pure gol' ! ' an' 
 she look up at him wid sparks flashin' out her eyes, 
 while he look like dat ain' good 'nough for her. 
 An' so twuz, when she went 'way, Sally Marshall 
 got dat frock, an' proud on it I tell you. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; he sutney mindin' her tender. Hi ! 
 when she go to ride in evenin' wid him, de ain' no 
 horse-block good 'nough for her ! Marse George 
 got to have her step in he hand ; an' when dee out 
 walkin' he got de umbreller holdin' 't over her all 
 de time, he so feared de sun '11 kiss her ; an* dee 
 walk so slow down dem walks in de shade you got 
 to sight 'em by a tree to tell ef dee movin' 'tall. 
 She use* to look like she used to it too, I tell you, 
 'cause she wuz quality, one de white-skinned ones ; 
 an' she'd set in dem big cheers, wid her little foots 
 on de cricket whar Marse George al'ays set for her, 
 he so feared dee'd tetch de groun', jes like she on 
 her throne ; an' ole marster he'd watch her 'mos' 
 edmirin as Marse George ; an' when she went 'way 
 hit sutney was lonesome. Hit look like daylight 
 
58 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 gone wid her. I don' know which I miss mos', Miss 
 Charlotte or Nancy. 
 
 " Den Marse George was 'lected to de Legislature, 
 an' ole Jedge Darker run for de Senator, an' Marse 
 George vote gin him and beat him. An' dat com- 
 mence de fuss ; an' den dat man gi' me de whuppin, 
 an' dat breck 'tup an' breck he heart. 
 
 " You see, after Marse George wuz 'lected ('lec- 
 tions wuz 'lections dem days ; dee warn' no bait- 
 gode 'lections, wid ev'y sort o' worms squirmin' up 
 'ginst one nurr, wid piece o' paper d' ain' know what 
 on, drappin' in a chink; didn' nuttin but gent'mens 
 vote den, an' dee took dee dram, an' vote out loud, 
 like gent'mens) well, arter Marse George wuz 
 'lected, de parties wuz jes as even balanced as stil- 
 yuds, an' wen dee ax Marse George who wuz to be 
 de Senator, he vote for de Whig, 'ginst de old'jedge, 
 an' dat beat him, of co'se. An' dee ain' got sense 
 to know he 'bleeged to vote wid he politics. Dat 
 he sprinciple ; he kyarn vote for Locofoco, I don' 
 keer ef he is Miss Charlotte pa, much less her step- 
 pa. Of co'se de ole jedge ain' speak to him arter 
 dat, nur is Marse George ax him to. But who dat 
 gwine s'pose women-folks got to put dee mouf in 
 too ? Miss Charlotte she write Marse George a let- 
 ter dat pester him mightily ; he set up all night 
 answerin' dat letter, an' he mighty solemn, I tell 
 you. An' I wuz gittin' right grewsome myself, 
 'cause I studyin' 'bout dat gal down dyah whar I 
 
" Unc Edinburg' s Drowndiri" 59 
 
 done gi' my wud to, an' when dee ain' no letters 
 come torectly hit hard to tell which one de anx- 
 iouser, me or Marse George. Den presney I so 
 'straughted 'long o' it I ax Aunt Haly 'bouten it : 
 she know all sjch things, 'cause she 'mos' a hunderd 
 years ole, an' seed evil sperits, an' got skoripins up 
 her chimley, an' knowed conjure ; an' she ax me 
 what wuz de signication, an' I tell her I ain' able 
 nuther to eat nor to sleep, an' dat gal come foolin' 
 'long me when I sleep jes like as natchel as ef I see 
 her sho 'nough. An' she say I done conjured ; dat 
 de gal done tricked me. 
 
 " Oh, Gord ! dat skeered me ! 
 
 " You white folks, marster, don' b'lieve nuttin like 
 dat ; y' all got too much sense, 'cause y' all kin read ; 
 but niggers dee ain' know no better, an' I sutney 
 wuz skeered, 'cause Aunt Haly say my coffin done 
 seasoned, de planks up de chimley. 
 
 " Well, I got so bad Marse George ax me 'bout it, 
 an' he sort o' laugh an' sort o' cuss, an' he tell Aunt 
 Haly ef she don' stop dat foolishness skeerin' me 
 he'll sell her an' tyah her ole skoripin house down. 
 Well, co'se he jes talkin', an' he ax me next day 
 how'd I like to go an' see my sweetheart. Gord ! 
 suh, I got well torectly. So I set off next evenin', 
 feelin' jes big as ole marster, wid my pass in my 
 pocket, which I warn' to show nobody 'douten I 
 'bleeged to, 'cause Marse George didn't warn no- 
 body to know he le' me go. An' den dat rascallion 
 
60 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 teck de shut off my back. But ef Marse George 
 didn' pay him de wuth o' it ! 
 
 " I done git 'long so good, too. 
 
 " When Nancy see me she sutney was 'stonished. 
 She come roun' de cornder in de back yard whar I 
 settin' in Nat's do' (he wuz de gardener), wid her 
 hyah all done untwist, an' breshed out mighty fine, 
 an' a clean ap'on wid fringe on it, meckin' out she 
 so s'prised to see me (whar wuz all a lie, 'cause some 
 on 'em done notify her I dyah), an' she say, ' Hi! 
 what dis black nigger doin' heah ? ' 
 
 " An' I say, ' Who you callin' nigger, you impi- 
 dent, kercumber-faced thing you ? ' Den we shake 
 hands, an' I tell her Marse George done set me free 
 dat I done buy myself; dat's de lie I done lay off 
 to tell her. 
 
 " An' when I tole her dat, she bust out laughin', 
 an' say, well, I better go 'long 'way, den, dat she 
 don' warn no free nigger to be comp'ny for her. 
 Dat sort o' set me back, an' I tell her she kickin' 'fo* 
 she spurred, dat I ain' got her in my mine ; I got a 
 nurr gal at home whar grievin' 'bout me dat ve'y 
 minute. An' after I tell her all sich lies as dat 
 presney she ax me ain' I hongry ; an* ef dat nigger 
 didn' git her mammy to gi' me de bes' supter ! 
 Umm-m ! I kin mos' tas'e it now. Wheat bread 
 off de table, an' zerves, an' fat bacon, tell I couldn' 
 put a nurr moufful nowhar sep'n I'd teck my hat. 
 Dat night I tote Nancy water for her, an* I tell her 
 
" Unc Edinburgh Drowndirf" 61 
 
 all 'bout ev'ything, an' she jes sweet as honey. Next 
 mornin', do', she done sort o' tunned some, an* am' 
 so sweet. You know how milk gits sort o' bonny- 
 clabberish ? An' when she see me she 'gin to 'buse 
 me say I jes tryin' to fool her, an' all de time got 
 nurr wife at home, or gittin' ready to git one, for all 
 she know, an' she ain' know wherr Marse George 
 ain' jes 'ceivin' as I is ; an' nem mine, she got plenty 
 warn marry her ; an' as to Miss Charlotte, she got 
 de whole wull ; Mr. Darker he ain' got nobody in 
 he way now, dat he deah all de time, an' ain' gwine 
 West no mo'. Well, dat aggrivate me so I tell her 
 ef she say dat 'bout Marse George I gwine knock 
 her ; an' wid dat she got so oudacious I meek out I 
 gwine 'way, an' lef her, an' went up todes de barn ; 
 an' up dyah, fust thing I know, I come across dat 
 ar man Mr. Darker. Soon as he see me he begin to 
 cuss me, an' he ax me what I doin' on dat land, an' I 
 tell him nuttin. An' he say, well, he gwine gi' me 
 some'n; he gwine teach me to come prowlin' round 
 gent'men's houses. An' he meek me go in de barn 
 an' teck off my shut, an' he beat me wid he whup 
 tell de blood run out my back. He sutney did beat 
 me scandalous, 'cause he done hate me an' Marse 
 George ever since we wuz at college togurr. An' 
 den he say: ' Now you git right off dis land. Ef 
 either you or you marster ever put you foot on 
 it, you'll git de same thing agin.' An' I tell you, 
 Edinburg he come way, 'cause he sutney had worry 
 
62 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 me. I ain' stop to see Nancy or nobody; I jes come 
 'long, shakin' de dust, I tell you. An' as I come 'long 
 de road I pass Miss Charlotte walkin' on de lawn 
 by herself, an' she call me : ' Why, hi ! ain' dat Ed- 
 inburg?' 
 
 " She look so sweet, an' her voice soun' so cool, I 
 say, 'Yes'm; how you do, missis?' An' she say, 
 she ve'y well, an' how I been, an' whar I gwine ? I 
 tell her I ain' feelin' so well, dat I gwine home. 
 1 Hi ! ' she say, ' is anybody treat you bad ? ' An' I 
 tell her, ' Yes'm.' An' she say, * Oh ! Nancy don' 
 mean nuttin by dat ; dat you mus'n mine what 
 womens say, an' do, 'cause dee feel sorry for it next 
 minute ; an' sometimes dee kyarn help it, or maybe 
 hit you fault ; an' anyhow, you ought to be willin' 
 to overlook it ; an' I better go back an' wait till to- 
 morrow ef ef I ain' 'bleeged to git home to-day.' 
 
 " She got mighty mixed up in de een part o' dat, 
 an' she looked mighty anxious 'bout me an' Nancy ; 
 an' I tell her, * No'm, I 'bleeged to git home.' 
 
 " Well, when I got home Marse George he warn 
 know all dat gwine on ; but I mighty sick dat man 
 done beat me so ; an' he ax me what de marter, an' 
 I upped an' tell him. 
 
 " Gord ! I nuver see a man in sich a rage. He 
 call me in de office an' meek me teck off my shut, 
 an' he fyah bust out cryin'. He walked up an' down 
 dat office like a caged lion. Ef he had got he hand 
 on Mr. Darker den, he'd 'a kilt him, sho ! 
 
" Unc Edinburg' s Drowndirf" 63 
 
 " He wuz most 'stracted. I don't know what he'd 
 been ef.I'd tell him what Nancy tell me. He call 
 for Peter to git he horse torectly, an' he tell me to 
 go an' git some'n' from mammy to put on my back, 
 an' to go to bed torectly, an' not to say nuttin to 
 nobody, but to tell he pa he'd be away for two days, 
 maybe ; an' den he got on Reveller an' galloped 
 'way hard as he could, wid he jaw set farst, an' he 
 heaviest whup clamped in he hand. Gord ! I v/uz 
 most hopin' he wouldn' meet dat man, 'cause I 
 feared ef he did he'd kill him ; an' he would, sho, ef 
 he had meet him right den ; dee say he leetle mo* 
 did when he fine him next day, an' he had done been 
 ridin' den all night ; he cotch him at a sto' on de 
 road, an' dee say he leetle mo' cut him all to pieces ; 
 he drawed a weepin on Marse George, but Marse 
 George wrench it out he hand an' flung it over de 
 fence ; an' when dee got him 'way he had weared 
 he whup out on him ; an' he got dem whelps on him 
 now, ef he am' dead. Yes, suh, he ain' let nobody 
 else do dat he ain' do heself, sho ! 
 
 " Dat done de business ! 
 
 " He sont Marse George a challenge, but Marse 
 George sont him wud he'll cowhide him agin ef he 
 ever heah any mo' from him, an' he 'ain't. Dat per- 
 rify him, so he shet he mouf. Den come he ring an' 
 all he pictures an' things back a gret box on 'em, 
 and not a wud wid 'em. Marse George, I think he 
 know'd dee wuz comin', but dat ain' keep it from 
 
64 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 huttin him, 'cause he done been 'gaged to Miss 
 Charlotte, an' got he mine riveted to her ; an' do* 
 befo' dat dee had stop writin', an' a riff done git 
 'twixt 'em, he am' satisfied in he mine dat she ain't 
 gwine 'pologizee I know by Nancy ; but now he 
 got de confirmation dat he done for good, an' dat 
 de gret gulf fixed 'twix him an' Aberham bosom. 
 An,' Gord, suh, twuz torment, sho 'nough ! He ain* 
 say nuttin 'bout it, but I see de light done pass from 
 him, an' de darkness done wrap him up in it. In a 
 leetle while you wouldn' 'a knowed him. Den ole 
 mistis died. 
 
 " B'lieve me, ole marster he 'most much hut by 
 Miss Charlotte as Marse George. He meek a 'tempt 
 to buy Nancy for me, so I find out arterward, an' 
 write Jedge Darker he'll pay him anything he'll ax 
 for her, but he letter wuz sont back 'dout any an- 
 swer. He sutney was mad 'bout it he say he'd 
 horsewhip him as Marse George did dat urr young 
 puppy, but ole mistis wouldn' le' him do nuttin, and 
 den he grieve heself to death. You see he mighty 
 ole, anyways. He nuver got over ole mistis' death. 
 She had been failin' a long time, an' he ain' tarry 
 long 'hinst her"; hit sort o' like breckin up a holler 
 de ole 'coon goes 'way soon arter dat ; an' mars- 
 ter nuver could pin he own collar or buckle he 
 own stock mistis she al'ays do dat ; an' do' Marse 
 George do de bes' he kin, an' mighty willin', he 
 kyarn handle pin like a woman; he hand tremble 
 
" Unc Edinburgh Drowndiri " 65 
 
 like a p'inter dog ; an' anyways he ain' ole mistis. 
 So ole marster foller her dat next fall, when dee 
 wuz gittin in de corn, an' Marse George he ain' got 
 nobody in de wull left ; he all alone in dat gret 
 house, an' I wonder sometimes he ain' die too, 'cause 
 he sutney wuz fond o' ole marster. 
 
 " When ole mistis wuz dyin', she tell him to be 
 good to ole marster, an' patient wid him, 'cause he 
 ain' got nobody but him now (ole marster he had jes 
 step out de room to cry) ; an' Marse George he lean 
 over her an' kiss her an' promise her faithful he 
 would. An' he sutney wuz tender wid him as a 
 woman ; an' when ole marster die, he set by him 
 an' hoi' he hand an' kiss him sorf, like he wuz ole 
 mistis. 
 
 " But, Gord ! twuz lonesome arter dat, an' Marse 
 George eyes look wistful, like he al'ays lookin' far 
 'way ; an' Aunt Haly say he see harnts whar walk 
 'bout in de gret house. She say dee walk dyah con- 
 stant of nights sence ole marster done alterate de 
 rooms from what dee wuz when he gran'pa buil' 
 'em, an' dat dee huntin' for dee ole chambers an' 
 kyarn git no rest 'cause dee kyarn fine 'em. I don't 
 know how dat wuz. I know Marse George he used 
 to walk about heself mightily of nights. All night 
 long, all night long, I'd heah him tell de chickens 
 crowin' dee second crow, an' some mornin's I'd go 
 dyah an' he ain' even rumple de bed. I thought sho 
 he wuz gwine die, but I suppose he done 'arn he 
 5 
 
66 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 days to be long in de land, an' dat save him. But 
 hit sutney wuz lonesome, an' he nuver went off de 
 plantation, an' he got older an' older, tell we all 
 thought he wuz gwine die. 
 
 " An' one day come jes befo' Christmas, 'bout nigh 
 two year after marster die, Mr. Braxton ride up to 
 de do'. He had done come to teck Marse George 
 home to spen' Christmas wid him. Marse George 
 warn git out it, but Mr. Braxton won' teck no dis- 
 app'intment ; he say he gwine baptize he boy, an' he 
 done name him after Marse George (he had marry 
 Marse George cousin, Miss Peggy Carter, an' he vite 
 Marse George to de weddin', but he wouldn' go, do* 
 I sutney did want him to go, 'cause I heah Miss 
 Charlotte was nominated to marry Mr. Darker, an' 
 I warn know what done 'come o' dat bright-skinned 
 nigger gal whar I used to know down dyah) ; an' he 
 say Marse George got to come an' stan' for him, an' 
 gi' him a silver cup an' a gol' rattle. So Marse George 
 he finally promise to come an' spend Christmas Day, 
 an' Mr. Braxton went 'way next mornin', an den hit 
 tun in an* rain so I feared we couldn* go, but hit 
 cler off de day befo' Christmas Eve an' tun cold. 
 Well, suh, we ain' been nowhar for so long I wuz 
 skittish as a young filly ; an' den you know twuz de 
 same ole place. 
 
 " We didn' git dyah till supper-time, an' twuz a 
 good one too, 'cause seventy miles dat cold a weath- 
 er hit whet a man's honger jes like a whetstone. 
 
" Unc* Edinburgh Drowndirf" 67 
 
 " Dee sutney wuz glad to see we all. We rid 
 roun' by de back yard to gi' Billy de horses, an' we 
 see dee wuz havin' gret fixin's ; an' den we went to 
 de house, jest as some o' de folks run in an' tell 'em 
 we wuz come. When Marse George stept in de 
 hall, dee all clustered roun' him like dee gwine hug 
 him, dee faces fyah dimplin' wid pleasure, an' Miss 
 Peggy she jes reched up an' teck him in her arms 
 an' hug him. 
 
 " Dee tell me in de kitchen dat dee wuz been 
 'spectin' of Miss Charlotte over to spend Christmas 
 too, but de river wuz so high dee s'pose dee couldn' 
 git 'cross. Chile, dat sutney disapp'int me ! 
 
 " Well, after supper de niggers had a dance. Hit 
 wuz down in de wash-house, an' de table wuz set in 
 de carpenter shop jes' by. Oh, hit sutney wuz beauti- 
 ful ! Miss Lucy an' Miss Ailsy dee had superintend 
 ev'ything wid dee own hands. So dee wuz down 
 dyah wid dee ap'ons up to dee chins, an' dee had de 
 big silver strandeliers out de house, two on each 
 table, an' some o' ole mistis's best damas' table- 
 clothes, an' ole marster's gret bowl full o' egg-nog; 
 hit look big as a mill-pond settin' dyah in de cornder ; 
 an' dee had flowers out de greenhouse on de table, 
 an' some o' de chany out de gret house, an' de dinin'- 
 room cheers set roun' de room. Oh ! oh ! nuttin 
 warn too good for niggers dem times; an' de little 
 niggers wuz runnin' roun' right 'stracted, squealin' an' 
 peepin' an' gittin in de way onder you foots ; an' de 
 
68 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 mens dee wuz totin' in de wood gret hickory logs, 
 look like stock whar you gwine saw an* de fire so 
 big hit look like you gwine kill hawgs, 'cause hit sut- 
 ney wuz cold dat night.. Dis nigger ain' nuver 
 gwine forgit it ! Jack Forester he had come 'cross 
 de river to lead de fiddlers, an' he say he had to put 
 he fiddle onder he coat an' poke he bow in he 
 breeches leg to keep de strings from poppin', an' dat 
 de river would freeze over sho ef twarn so high ; but 
 twuz jes snortin', an' he had hard wuck to git over 
 in he skiff, an' Unc' Jeems say he ain' gwine come 
 out he boat-house no mo' dat night he done tempt 
 Providence often 'nough dat day. 
 
 " Den ev'ything wuz ready, an' de fiddlers got dee 
 dram an' chuned up, an' twuz lively, I tell you ! 
 Twuz jes as thick in dyah as blackberries on de 
 blackberry bush, 'cause ev'y gal on de plantation 
 wuz dyah shakin' her foot for some young buck, an' 
 back-steppin' for to go 'long. Dem ole sleepers wuz 
 jes a-rockin', an' Jack Forester he wuz callin' de 
 riggers for to wake 'em up. I warn' dancin', 'cause I 
 done got 'ligion an' longst to de chutch since de 
 trouble done tetch us up so rank ; but I tell you 
 my foots wuz pintedly eechchin for a leetle sop on 
 it, an' I had to come out to keep from crossin' 'em 
 onst, anyways. Den, too, I had a tetch o' misery 
 in my back, an' I lay off to git a tas'e o' dat egg-nog 
 out dat big bowl, wid snow-drift on it, from Miss 
 Lucy she al'ays mighty fond o' Marse George ; so 
 
" Unc Edinburgh Drowndirf " 69 
 
 I slip into de carpenter shop, an' ax her kyarn I do 
 nuttin for her, an' she laugh an' say, yes, I kin drink 
 her health, an' gi' me a gret gobletful, an' jes den de 
 white folks come in to 'spec' de tables, Marse George 
 in de lead, an' dee all fill up dee glasses an' pledge 
 dee health, an' all de servants', an' a merry Christ- 
 mas ; an' den dee went in de wash-house to see de 
 dancin', an' maybe to teck a hand deeself, 'cause 
 white folks' 'ligion ain' like niggers', you know ; dee 
 got so much larnin dee kin dance, an' fool de devil 
 too. An' I stay roun' a little while, an' den went in 
 de kitchen to see how supper gittin on, 'cause I wuz 
 so hongry when I got dyah I ain' able to eat 'nough 
 at one time to 'commodate it, an' de smell o' de tuc- 
 keys an' de gret saddlers o' mutton in de tin-kit- 
 chens wuz mos' 'nough by deeself to feed a right 
 hongry man ; an' dyah wuz a whole parcel o' niggers 
 cookin' an' tunnin 'bout for life, an' dee faces jes as 
 shiny as ef dee done bas'e 'em wid gravy ; an' dyah, 
 settin' back in a cheer out de way, wid her clean 
 frock up off de flo', wuz dat gal ! I sutney did feel 
 curious. 
 
 "I say, 'Hi! name o' Gord ! whar'd you come 
 from ? ' She say, ' Oh, Marster ! ef heah ain' dat free 
 nigger agin ! ' An' ev'ybody laughed. 
 
 " Well, presny we come out, cause Nancy warn see 
 de dancin', an' we stop a leetle while 'hind de cornder 
 out de wind while she tell me 'bout ev'ything. An' 
 she say dat's all a lie she tell me dat day 'bout Mr. 
 
7O In Ole Virginia. 
 
 Darker an' Miss Charlotte ; an' he done gone 'way 
 now for good 'cause he so low down an' wuthless dee 
 kyarn nobody stand him ; an' all he warn marry Miss 
 Charlotte for is to git her niggers. But Nancy say 
 Miss Charlotte nuver could abide him ; he so 'sateful, 
 'spressly sence she fine out what a lie he told 'bout 
 Marse George. You know, Mr. Darker he done meek 
 'em think Marse George sont me dyah to fine out ef 
 he done come home, an' den dat he fall on him wid 
 heweepinwhen he ain' noticin' him, an* sort o' out 
 de way too, an' git two urr mens to hold him while 
 he beat him, all 'cause he in love wid Miss Charlotte. 
 D'you ever, ever heah sich a lie? An' Nancy say, 
 do' Miss Charlotte ain' b'lieve it all togerr, hit look 
 so reasonable she done le' de ole jedge an' her ma, 
 who wuz 'pending on what she heah, 'duce her to 
 send back he things ; an' dee ain' know no better not 
 tell after de ole jedge die ; den dee fine out 'bout de 
 whuppin me, an' all; an' den Miss Charlotte know 
 huccome I ain' gwine stay dat day; an' she say dee 
 wuz sutney outdone 'bout it, but it too late den; an* 
 Miss Charlotte kyarn do nuttin but cry 'bout it, an* 
 dat she did, pintedly, 'cause she done lost Marse 
 George, an' done 'stroy he life ; an' she nuver keer 
 'bout nobody else sep Marse George, Nancy say. 
 Mr. Clarke he hangin' on, but Miss Charlotte she 
 done tell him pintedly she ain' nuver gwine marry 
 nobody. An' dee jes done come, she say, 'cause dee 
 had to go 'way round by de rope ferry 'long o' de 
 
" Unc Edinburg' s Drowndin" 71 
 
 river bein' so high, an' dee ain' know tell dee done 
 git out de ker'idge an' in de house dat we all wuz 
 heah ; an' Nancy say she glad dee ain', 'cause she 
 'feared ef dee had, Miss Charlotte wouldn' 'a come. 
 
 " Den I tell her all 'bout Marse George, cause I know 
 she 'bleeged to tell Miss Charlotte. Twuz powerful 
 cold out dyah, but I ain' mine dat, chile. Nancy she 
 done had to wrop her arms up in her ap'on an' she 
 kyarn meek no zistance 'tall, an' dis nigger ain' keer- 
 in nuttin 'bout cold den. 
 
 " An' jes den two ladies come out de carpenter 
 shop an' went 'long to de wash-house, an' Nancy say, 
 ' Dyah Miss Charlotte now ; ' an' twuz Miss Lucy 
 an' Miss Charlotte ; an' we heah Miss* Lucy coaxin' 
 Miss Charlotte to go, tellin' her she kin come right 
 out ; an' jes den dee wuz a gret shout, an' we went 
 in hinst 'em. Twuz Marse George had done teck 
 de fiddle, an' ef he warn' natchelly layin' hit down ! 
 he wuz up at de urr een o' de room, 'way from we 
 all, 'cause we wuz at de do', nigh Miss Charlotte 
 whar she wuz standin' 'hind some on 'em, wid her 
 eyes on him mighty timid, like she hidin' from him, 
 an' ev'y nigger in de room wuz on dat flo'. Gord ! 
 suh, dee wuz grinnin' so dee warn' a toof* in dat 
 room you couldn' git you tweezers on ; an' you 
 couldn' heah a wud, dee so proud o' Marse George 
 playin' for 'em. 
 
 "Well, dee danced tell you couldn' tell which wuz 
 de clappers an' which de back-steppers; de whole 
 
72 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 house look like it wuz rockin' ; an' presney some- 
 body say supper, an* dat stop 'em, an' dee wuz a 
 spell for a minute, an' Marse George standin' dyah 
 wid de fiddle in he hand. He face wuz tunned 
 away, an' he wuz studyin' studyin' 'bout dat urr 
 Christmas so long ago an' sudney he face drapt 
 down on de fiddle, an' he drawed he bow 'cross de 
 strings, an' dat chune begin to whisper right sorf. 
 Hit begin so low ev'ybody had to stop talkin' an* 
 hold dee mouf to heah it ; an' Marse George he ain f 
 know nuttin 'bout it, he done gone back, an' standin' 
 dyah in de gret hall playin' it for Miss Charlotte, 
 whar done come down de steps wid her little blue 
 foots an' gret fan, an' standin' dyah in her dim blue 
 dress an' her fyah arms, an' her gret eyes lookin' in 
 he face so earnest, whar he ain' gwine nuver speak 
 to no mo'. I see it by de way he look an' de fiddle 
 wuz jes pleadin'. He drawed it out jes as fine as a 
 stran' o' Miss Charlotte's hyah. 
 
 " Hit so sweet, Miss Charlotte, mun, she couldn' 
 stan' it ; she made to de do' ; an' jes while she 
 watchin' Marse George to keep him from seein' her 
 he look dat way, an' he eyes fall right into hern. 
 
 " Well, suh, de fiddle drapt down on de flo' per- 
 lang ! an' he face wuz white as a sycamore limb. 
 
 " Dee say twuz a swimmin' in de head he had ; an' 
 Jack say de whole fiddle warn' wuff de five dollars. 
 
 "Me an' Nancy followed 'em tell dee went in de 
 house, an' den we come back to de shop whar de 
 
" Unc Edinburgh Drowndin '." 73 
 
 supper wuz gwine on, an' got we all supper an* a 
 leetle sop o' dat yaller gravy out dat big bowl, an' 
 den we all rejourned to de wash-house agin, an' got 
 onder de big bush o' misseltow whar hangin' from 
 de jice, an' ef you ever see scufflin' dat's de time. 
 
 " Well, me an' she had jes done lay off de whole 
 Christmas, when wud come dat Marse George want 
 he horses. 
 
 " I went, but it sutney breck me up ; an' I wonder 
 whar de name o' Gord Marse George gwine sen' me 
 dat cold night, an' jes as I got to de do' Marse 
 George an' Mr. Braxton come out, an' I know to- 
 rectly Marse George wuz gwine home. I seen he 
 face by de light o' de lantern, an* twuz set jes rigid 
 as a rock. 
 
 " Mr. Braxton he wuz beggin' him to stay ; he tell 
 him he ruinin' he life, dat he sho dee's some mistake, 
 an' twill be all right. An' all de answer Marse George 
 meek wuz to swing heself up in de saddle, an' Revel- 
 ler he look like he gwine fyah 'stracted. He al'ays 
 mighty fool anyways when he git cold, dat horse wuz. 
 
 " Well, we come 'long 'way, an' Mr. Braxton an' 
 two mens come down to de river wid lanterns to see 
 us cross, 'cause twuz dark as pitch, sho 'nough. 
 
 "An' jes 'fo' I started I got one o' de mens to hoi' 
 my horses, an' I went in de kitchen to git warm, an' 
 dyah Nancy wuz. An' she say Miss Charlotte up- 
 steairs cryin' right now, 'cause she think Marse 
 George gwine cross de river 'count o' her, an' she 
 
74 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 whimper a little herself when I tell her good-by. 
 But twuz too late den. 
 
 " Well, de river wuz jes natchelly b'ilin', an' hit 
 soun' like a mill-dam roarin' by ; an' when we got 
 dyah Marse George tunned to me an' tell me he 
 reckon I better go back. I ax him whar he gwine, 
 an' he say, ' Home.' ' Den I gwine wid you,' I says. 
 I wuz mighty skeered, but me an' Marse George wuz 
 boys togerr ; an' he plunged right in, an' I after him. 
 
 " Gord ! twuz cold as ice ; an* we hadn' got in befo' 
 bofe horses wuz swimmin' for life. He holler to me 
 to byah de myah head up de stream ; an' I did try, 
 but what's a nigger to dat water ! Hit jes pick me 
 up an' dash me down like I ain' no mo'n a chip, an* 
 de fust thing I know I gwine down de stream like a 
 piece of bark, an' water washin' all over me. I 
 knowed den I gone, an' I hollered for Marse George 
 for help. I heah him answer me not to git skeered, 
 but to hold on ; but de myah wuz lungin' an' de 
 water wuz all over me like ice, an' den I washed off 
 de myah back, an' got drownded. 
 
 "I 'member comin' up an' hollerin' agin for help, 
 but I know den 'tain' no use, dee ain' no help den, 
 an' I got to pray to Gord, an' den some'n hit me an* 
 I went down agin, an' de next thing I know I wuz 
 in de bed, an' I heah 'em talkin' 'bout wherr I dead 
 or not, an' I ain' know myself tell I taste de whiskey 
 dee po'rin' down my jugular. 
 
 " An' den dee tell me 'bout how when I hollered 
 
" Unc' Edinburgh Drowndin" 75 
 
 Marse George tun back an' struck out for me for 
 life, an' how jes as I went down de last time he 
 cotch me an' helt on to me tell we wash down to 
 whar de bank curve, an' dyah de current wuz so 
 rapid hit yuck him off Reveller back, but he helt on 
 to de reins tell de horse lunge so he hit him wid he 
 fo' foot an' breck he collar-bone, an' den he had to 
 let him go, an' jes helt on to me ; an' jes den we 
 wash up agin de bank an' cotch in a tree, an' de 
 mens got dyah quick as dee could, an' when dee 
 retched us Marse George wuz holdin' on to me, an* 
 had he arm wropped roun' a limb, an' we wuz lodged 
 in de crotch, an' bofe jes as dead as a nail : an' de 
 myah she got out, but Reveller he wuz drownded, 
 wid his foot cotch in de rein an' de saddle tunned 
 onder he side ; an' dee ain' know wherr Marse 
 George ain' dead too, 'cause he not only drownded, 
 but he lef ' arm broke up nigh de shoulder. 
 
 " An' dee say Miss Charlotte she 'mos' 'stracted ; 
 dat de fust thing anybody know 'bout it wuz when 
 some de servants bust in de hall an' holler, an' say 
 Marse George an' me done bofe washed 'way an' 
 drownded, an' dat she drapt down dead on de flo', 
 an' when dee bring her to she 'low to Miss Lucy dat 
 she de 'casion on he death; an* dee say dat when de 
 mens wuz totin' him in de house, an' wuz shufflm' 
 de feets not to meek no noige, an' a little piece o' 
 blue silk drapt out he breast whar somebody picked 
 up an' gin Miss Lucy, Miss Charlotte breck right 
 
76 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 down agin ; an' some on 'em say she sutney did keer 
 for him ; an' now when he lay in' upstairs dyah dead, 
 hit too late for him ever to know it. 
 
 " Well, suh, I couldn' teck it in dat Marse George 
 and Reveller wuz dead, an' jes den somebody say 
 Marse George done comin' to an* dee gi' me so 
 much whiskey I went to sleep. 
 
 " An' next mornin' I got up an' went to Marse 
 George room, an' see him layin' dyah in de bed, wid 
 he face so white an' he eyes so tired-lookin', an' he 
 ain' know me no mo' 'n ef he nuver see me, an' I 
 couldn' stan' it ; I jes drap down on de flo' an' bust 
 out cryin'. Gord ! suh, I couldn' help it, 'cause 
 Reveller wuz drownded, an' Marse George he wuz 
 mos' gone. 
 
 *' An' he came nigher goin' yit, 'cause he had sich 
 a strain, an' been so long in de water, he heart done 
 got numbed, an' he got 'lirium, an* all de time he 
 thought he tryin' to git 'cross de river to see Miss 
 Charlotte, an' hit so high he kyarn git dyah. 
 
 " Hit sutney wuz pitiful to see him layin' dyah 
 tossin' an' pitchin', not knowin* whar he wuz, tell 
 it teck all Mr. Braxton an' me could do to keep 
 him in de bed, an' de doctors say he kyarn hoi' out 
 much longer. 
 
 " An' all dis time Miss Charlotte she wuz gwine 
 'bout de house wid her face right white, an' Nancy 
 say she don' do nuttin all day long in her room but 
 cry an' say h.er pra'rs, prayin' for Marse George, whar 
 
" Unc Edinburgh Drowndiri " 77 
 
 dyin' upsteairs by 'count o' not knowin' she love him, 
 an' I tell .Nancy how he honin' all de time to see her, 
 an' how he constant callin' her name. 
 
 "Well, so twuz, tell he mos' done wyah heself out ; 
 an' jes lay dyah wid his face white as de pillow, an' 
 he gret pitiful eyes rollin' 'bout so restless, like he 
 still lookin' for her whar he all de time callin' her 
 name, an' kyarn git 'cross dat river to see. 
 
 " An' one evenin 'bout sunset he 'peared to be 
 gwine ; he weaker 'n he been at all, he ain' able to 
 scuffle no mo', an' jes layin' dyah so quiet, an' 
 presney he say, lookin' mighty wistful, 
 
 " ' Edinburg, I'm goin' to-night ; ef I don' git 'cross 
 dis time, I'll gin't up.' 
 
 " Mr. Braxton wuz standin' nigh de head o' de 
 bed, an' he say, ' Well, by Gord ! he shall see her ! ' 
 jes so. An' he went out de room, an' to Miss 
 Charlotte do', an' call her, an' tell her she got to 
 come, ef she don't, he'll die dat night ; an' fust thing 
 I know, Miss Lucy bring Miss Charlotte in, wid her 
 face right white, but jes as tender as a angel's, an* 
 she come an' stan' by de side de bed, an' lean down 
 over him, an' call he name, ' George ! ' jes so. 
 
 " An' Marse George he ain' answer ; he jes look 
 at her study for a minute, an' den he forehead 
 got smooth, an' he tun he eyes to me, an say, 
 ' Edinburg, I'm 'cross." 1 
 
MEH LADY : A STORY OF THE WAR. 
 
 dat Phil go ' stracted when h 
 
 pike on de een o' dis feller! " 
 
 The speaker was standing in the dogwood bushes 
 just below me, for I was on the embankment, where 
 the little foot-path through the straggling pines and 
 underbrush ran over it. He was holding in his hand 
 a newly peeled cedar fishing-pole, while a number 
 more lay in the path at the foot of the old redoubt. 
 
 I watched for a moment in silence, and then said : 
 
 " Hello ! Uncle, what are you doing ? " 
 
 " Gittin' fishin'-poles for de boys, suh," he an- 
 swered promptly and definitely. " We's 'spectin' 
 'em soon." Then he added confidentially : 
 
 " Dee won' have none from nowhar else, suh ; dee 
 done heah dee ma tell how Marse Phil used to git 
 poles right heah on dis ridge, an' dee oon' fling a 
 line wid nay urr sort o' poles at all. Dat Phil he 
 mo' like Marse Phil 'n he like he pa; sometimes I 
 think he Marse Phil done come back he's he ve'y 
 spit an' image." 
 
 " Who are the boys ? " I asked, taking a seat on 
 the moss-covered breastwork. 
 
 " Hi ! we all's boys Meh Lady's. De fish run- 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War. 79 
 
 nin' good now, an' dee'll be heah toreckly. Dee up 
 in New York now, but me an' Hannah got a letter 
 from 'em yistidy. You cyarn' keep 'em dyah long 
 after de fish 'gins to run ; no suh, dat you cyarn'. 
 Dat Phil, I boun' studyin' 'bout his pole right now." 
 And a short laugh of delight followed the reflection. 
 
 " How many are there? " 
 
 " Fo' on 'em, suh, wid de little gal, an' she jes' 
 like Meh Lady wuz at her age, tryin' to keep up wid 
 her brurrs, an' do ev'ything dee do. Lord ! suh, hit 
 cyars me back so sometimes, I mos' furgit de am' 
 nuver been no war nor nuttin'. Yes, suh, dee tu'ns 
 de house upside down when dee comes, jes' like 
 Marse Phil an' Meh Lady. Um m ! [making that 
 peculiar sound so indescribably suggestive], dee used 
 to jes' teoh de wull to pieces. You see, after Marse 
 Jeems die' an' lef Mistis heah wid jes' dem two, she 
 used to gi' 'em dee head, an' dee all over de planta- 
 tion. Meh Lady (de little white mistis). in her little 
 white apron wid her curls all down in her eyes, used 
 to look white 'mong dem urr chil'ns as a clump 
 o' blackberry blossoms 'mong de blackberries. I 
 don' keer what Hannah do wid dat hyah it wouldn* 
 lay smoove. An' her eyes ! I do b'lieve she laugh 
 mo' wid 'em 'n wid her mouf. She wuz de 'light o' 
 dis plantation ! When she'd come in you' house 
 'twuz like you'd shove back de winder an' let piece 
 o' de sun in on de flo' you could almos' see by her ! 
 An' Marse Phil, he used to wyah her ! I don' keer 
 
8o In Ole Virginia. 
 
 whar you see one, dyah turr, she lookin' up at him, 
 pushin' her hyah back out her big brown eyes, an* 
 tryin' to do jes' what he do. When Marse Phil went 
 byah-footed, she had to go byah-footed too, an' she'd 
 foller him down to de mill-pond th'oo briers an' 
 ev'ywhar, wid her little white foots scratchin' an' 
 gittin' briers in 'em ; but she ain' mine dat so he 
 ain' lef her. Dat's de way 'twuz, spang tell Marse 
 Phil went to college, or you jes' as well say, tell he 
 went in de army, cause he home ev'y Christmas an* 
 holiday all de time he at de univusity, an' al'ays got 
 somebody or nurr wid him. You cyarn' keep bees 
 'way after dee fine de honeysuckle bush, an' dem 
 young bucks dee used to be roun' her constant. Hit 
 look like ef she drap her hankcher hit teck all on 
 em' to pick 't up. Dee so perseverin' (Mr. Watkins 
 spressly), I tell Hannah I specks one on 'em gwine 
 be Mistis' son-in-law ; but Hannah say de chile jes' 
 'joyin' herself an' projeckin' wid 'em, an' ain' love 
 none on 'em hard as Marse Phil. An' so 'twuz ! 
 Hannah know. Her cap'n ain' come yit ! When dee 
 cap'n come dee know it, an' ef dee don' know it 
 when he come, dee know it p'intedly when he go 
 'way. 
 
 " We wuz rich den, quarters on ev'y hill, an' nig- 
 gers mo' 'n you could tell dee names ; dee used to 
 be thirty cradlers in de harves'-fiel' an' binders mo' 
 'n you kin count. 
 
 " Den Marse Phil went in de war. You wuz too 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War. 8 1 
 
 young to know 'bout dat, marster? Say you wuz ? 
 Dat's so ! " (This in ready acquiescence to my reply 
 that every Southerner knew of the war.) " Well, 
 hit 'peared like when it start de ladies wuz ambi- 
 tiouser for it mos' 'n de mens. Um ! dee wuz rank, 
 sho' 'nough. At fust dee didn' know what 'twuz, 
 hit come so sudden. One mornin' I was standin' 
 right by de po'ch, an' Marse Phil ride up in de yard. 
 I see him time he tunned de curve o' de avenue ; I 
 know he seat, 'cause I larn him to ride ; dese hands 
 set him up on de horse fust time he ever tetch de 
 saddle, when he little fat legs couldn' retch to de 
 little skeurts. Well, I call Mistis an' Meh Lady, an' 
 dee come out jes' as he gallop up in de yard. He 
 speak to me, an' run up de gre't steps, an' Mistis 
 teck him right in her arms, an' belt him farst, an' 
 when she le' him go her face look mighty cu'yus ; 
 an' when dee went into de house I notice Marse 
 Phil taller'n he wuz at Christmas, an' he han' 'em in 
 stately like he pa. 
 
 " 'Twuz he done come home to go in de army, an' 
 he done stop in Richmon' to git he permission, 
 'cause he feared he ma oon' let him go bedout it ; 
 an' he say, Mr. Watkins an' heap o' de boys done 
 lef an' gone home to raise companies. Mistis 
 Hannah say grieve might'ly when tain' nobody see 
 her, an' she got her do' locked heap, sayin' her prars 
 for him ; but she ain' say a wud 'bout he goin', she 
 
 nor Meh Lady nurr dee jes' dat ambitious 'bout it. 
 6 
 
82 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 De thorybreds goes wid dee heads up till dee drap, 
 you know. 
 
 " After dat you ain' see nuttin' but gittin ready ; 
 cuttin' an' sewin', an' meckin' tents, an' band- 
 ages, an' uniforms, an' lint 'twuz wuss'n when 
 dee meckin' up de folks' winter clo'es ! an' when 
 Marse Phil fetch he s'o'de home an' put on he boots 
 an' spurs whar I done black, an* git he seat on Pala- 
 din, twarn' nay han' on de place but what say Marse 
 Phil 'bleeged to whup 'em ef dee come close enough. 
 Well, so he went off to de war, an' Left-hand Torm 
 went wid him to wait on him an' ten' to de horses, 
 and Mistis an' Meh Lady ain' had time to cry tell dee 
 rid roun' de curve, an' Marse Phil tu'n an' wave he 
 hat to 'em stan'in dyah on de po'ch ; an' den Mistis 
 tu'n roun' an' walk in de house right quick wid her 
 mouf wuckin', an' lock herse'f in her chamber, an' 
 Meh Lady set down on de steps an' cry by herse'f. 
 
 " Dat wuz de een o' de ole times, an' dem whar 
 ain' nuver had dee foots to git 'quainted wid de 
 ground wuz stomped down in de dut. 
 
 " Oh ! yes, suh, he come back," said he presently, 
 in answer to a question from me, " but de war had 
 been gwine on for mo' 'n a year befo' he did. Heaps 
 o' urr soldiers used to come ; dee'd kiver up de gre't 
 road an' de plantation sometimes, an' eat up ev'y- 
 thing on de place. But Marse Phil he ain' nuver git 
 home ; he 'bleeged to stay to keep de Yankeys back ; 
 he wid Gener'l Jackson, an' he fightin' all de time ; 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War. 83 
 
 he git two or th'ee balls th'oo he clo'es an' he cap he 
 write we all 'bout it ; two bring de blood, but not 
 much, he say, dee jes' sort o' bark him. Oh ! dee 
 wuz jes' p'intedly notifyin' him ; ev'y chance dee'd 
 git dee'd plump at him same as when you'd 
 plump at de middle man. But dat ain' pester him, 
 chile ! 
 
 " But one mornin' when we ain' heah from him in 
 long time an' think he up in de valley, Marse Phil 
 ride right up in de yard, an' Mistis' face light up to 
 see him tell she look mos' like a young ooman. He 
 say he ain' got long to stay, dat de army gwine 
 down de big road an' he 'bleeged to git right back 
 to he bat'ry he jes' ride 'cross to see he ma an' Meh 
 Lady an' all on us, he say, an' he mighty hongry, 
 'cause he ain' had nuttin' to eat sence early de 
 day befo', an' he want me to feed Paladin at de rack ; 
 an' Meh Lady, chile ! she lef him walkin' 'bout in 
 de house wid he ma, wid he arm roun' her, an' 
 twis'in' he mustache, whar showin' leetle sence he 
 sich a man, an' axin' he ma don't she think it a fine 
 mustache, dat all de girls say' tis, an' axin' 'bout 
 ev'ybody ; an' she come out an' 'tend to gittin' him 
 some'n' to eat wid her own hands, an' he sut'n'y did 
 eat hearty ; an' den he come 'way, an' he stoop down 
 an' kiss he ma an' Meh Lady, an' tell 'em he gwine 
 to be a cun'l one dese days ; an' Mistis she ain' able 
 to say nuttin', but jes' look at him wistful as he 
 went down de steps, den she run down after him an* 
 
 
84 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 ketch him after he git on de groun' an' kiss him an* 
 breck out cryin' ; she say she ain' begrudge him, but 
 she love him so much. He kiss her mighty sorf 
 two or th'ee times, an' den she let him go, an' he 
 come an git on he horse an' rid 'way at a gallop out 
 de back gate wid he cap on de side he head, an* 
 dee went in de house, an' dat horse warn' go up de 
 stable right den. 
 
 " De nex' day we hear de cannons 'way down de 
 country jes' like thunder right study, an' Mistis and 
 Meh Lady dee set on de po'ch an' listen to 'em wid 
 dee face mighty solemn all day long. An' dat night 
 'bout de fust rooster-crow Left-hand Torm come 
 home on de gray, an' knock at Mistis' winder, an' 
 say Marse Phil done shoot in de breast, an' he don't 
 know wherr he dead or not ; he say he warn' dead 
 when he come 'way, but de doctor wuz wid him, an' 
 he had sent him after he ma to come to him at once, 
 an' he had been ridin' hard all night long ever sence 
 jes' befo' sunset ; an' Torm say he bat'ry wuz de 
 fusf on de groun', an' he post it on de aidge o' de 
 woods in a oat-fiel', jes' like cradlers, you know, an' 
 he drive de enemy out dee breas'wucks, an' he see 
 him when he lead he bat'ry 'cross de oat-fiel', he 
 guns all six in a strainin' gallop, an' he and Paladin 
 in de lead cheerin', wid bullits an' shells hailin' all 
 roun' him ; an' he wuz de fust man in de redoubt, he 
 say, an' he fall jes' as he jump he horse over, an' 
 den he lay dyah an' fight he guns tell he faint. An' 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War. 85 
 
 Torm say de gener'l say he'd ruther been Marse 
 Phil fightn' he bat'ry dat day den 'a' been President 
 de Confederate States. 
 
 " Well, suh, Mistis she had jump out o' bed de 
 fust step o' Torm in de yard ; she hadn' even teck 
 off her clo'es, an' she jes' stand still like she am' 
 heah good, wid her face lookin' like she done dead. 
 Meh Lady she tell Torm to tell me to git de ker- 
 ridge as soon as I kin, an' to tell her mammy please 
 to come dyah quick. 
 
 " An' when day broke I wuz standin' at de gate 
 wid de kerridge ; done feed my horses an' a good 
 bag o' clean oats in de boot. Mistis she come 
 out wid Meh Lady an' Hannah, an' her face 
 sut'n'y wuz grievious. I ain' know tell I see de 
 way she look how it hu't her, but I been see 
 dead folks look better'n she look den. All she say 
 wuz : 
 
 " * Try an' git me dyah, Billy ; ' an' I say, 
 'Yes'm, I'm gwine to ef Gord'll le' me.' I did 
 git her dyah, too ; ef I didn' meek dem hofses 
 flinder ! 
 
 " But dead mens ! I nuver see as many in my life 
 as I see dat evenin'. Amb'lances an' waggins full 
 on 'em, an dem whar jes' good as dead ; de road 
 wuz chocked up wid 'em ! Dee all know Marse Phil 
 bat'ry ; dee say hit de fust in de fight yistidy an' it 
 cut all to pieces ; an' pres'n'y a gent'man whar I ax 
 as he gallop past me rein up he horse an' say he 
 
86 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 know him well, an* he wuz shot yistidy an' left on de 
 fiel' ; he done teck off he cap when he see Mistis an* 
 Meh Lady in de kerridge, an' he voice drapt mighty 
 low, an' he say Marse Phil wuz shot 'bout fo' o'clock 
 leadin' he bat'ry, an' he did splendid wuck. 
 
 " He voice sort o' 'passionate, an' he face so 
 pitiful when he say dat, I know 'tain' no hope 
 to save him, an' ef I git Mistis dyah in time, dat's 
 all. 
 
 " ' Drive on quick,' says Mistis, an' I druv on. I 
 done meek up my mine to git she an' Meh Lady 
 to Marse Phil, whar I 'sponsible for dat night, ef 
 Gord'll le' me. An' I did, too, mon ! I see de 
 soldiers all 'long de road look at me, an some on 
 'em holler to me dat I cyarn' go dat way ; but I ain' 
 pay no 'tention to 'em, I jes' push on ; an' pres'n'y 
 risin' a little ridge I see de house de gent'man done 
 tell me 'bout, settin' in de oat-fiel' 'bout a half a mile 
 ahead, an' I jes' pushin' for it, when th'ee or fo' 
 mens standin' dyah in de road 'yant de ridge, a little 
 piece befo' me, say ' Halt.' I ain' pay no 'tention 
 to 'em, jes' drive on so, an' dee holler ' Halt ' ag'in ; 
 an' when I ain' stop den nuther, jes' drive on right 
 study, a spreckle-face feller run up an' ketch Remus' 
 head, an' anurr one done p'int he gun right at me. 
 I say, ' Whyn' you le' go de horse, mon ! ain' you 
 got no better sense 'n to ketch holt Mistis' horses, 
 juckin' dat horse' mouf dat way ? Le' go de horse' 
 head, don' you heah me ? ' 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War. 87 
 
 " I clar ! ef I warn' dat outdone, I wuz jes' 'bout 
 to wrap my whip 'roun' him, when Mistis open de 
 do' an' step out. She say she wan' go on ; dee say 
 she cyarn' do it ; den she say she gwine, dat her son 
 dyin' dyah in de house an' she gwine to him. She 
 talk mighty sorf but mighty 'termined like. Dee 
 sort o' reason wid her, but she jes' walk on by wid 
 her head up, an' tell me to foller her, an' dat I did, 
 mon ! an' lef 'em dyah in de road holdin' dee gun. 
 De whole army couldn' 'a' keep her fum Marse Phil 
 den. 
 
 " I got to de house toreckly an' drive up nigh as 
 I could fur de gre't trenches 'cross de yard, whar 
 look like folks been ditchin'. A gent'man come to 
 de do', an' Mistis ax, ' Is he 'live yet ? ' He say, 
 1 Yes, still alive ; ' an' she say * Where ? ' an' went 
 right in an' Meh Lady wid her ; an' I heah say he 
 open he eyes as she went in an* sort o' smile, an' 
 when she kneel down an' kiss him he whisper he 
 ready to go den, an' he wuz too. 
 
 " He went dat night in he mother's arms, an' Meh 
 Lady an' Hannah at he side, like I tole 'em I 
 was gwine do when I start fum home dat mornin', 
 an' he wuz jes' as peaceful as a baby. He tole he 
 ma when he wuz dyin' dat he had try to do he 
 duty, an' dat 'twuz jes' like ole times, when he 
 used to go to sleep in her lap in he own room, 
 wid her arms 'roun' him. Mistis sen' me fur a 
 amb'lance dat night, an' we put him in de coffin 
 
88 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 next mornin' an' start, 'cause Mistis she gwine cyar 
 Marse Phil home an' lay him in de gyardin, whar she 
 kin watch him. 
 
 " We travel all day an' all night, an' retch home 
 'bout sunrise, and den we had to dig de grave. 
 
 " An' when we got home Mistis she had de coffin 
 brought in, and cyared him in he own room 
 while we waitin', and she set in dyah all day long 
 wid him, and he look like a boy sleepin' dyah so 
 young, in he little gray jacket wid he s'o'de 'cross he 
 breas'. We bury him in de gyardin dat evenin', and 
 dyar warn' 'nough gent'mens in de county to be he 
 pall-bearers, so de hands on de place toted him, and 
 it ease' me might'ly to git meh arm onder him right 
 good, like when he wuz a little chap runnin' 'roun* 
 callin' me ' Unc' Billy,' and pesterin' me to go fishin'. 
 And de gener'l write Mistis a letter and say de Con- 
 fede'cy moan he loss, and he meek him a cun'l in de 
 oat-fiel' de day he wuz shot, and hit's dat on he 
 tombstone now ; you kin go dyah in de gyardin an* 
 read it. 
 
 " And we hang he s'o'de on de wall in he own 
 room over de fireplace, and dyah it hang now for 
 to show to de boys what a soldier he wuz. 
 
 " Well, after dat, things sut'n'y went bad. De 
 house looked dat lonesome I couldn' byah to look at 
 it ; ev'ything I see look' like Marse Phil jes' done 
 put it down, or jes' comin' after it. Mistis and Meh 
 Lady dee wuz in deep mo'nin', of co'se, and it look 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War. 89 
 
 like de house in mo'nin' too. And Mistis her hyah 
 got whiter and whiter. De on'y thing 'peared to gi' 
 her any peace o' mine wuz settin' in Marse Phil' 
 room. She used to set dyah all day, sewin' for de 
 soldiers. She ain' nuver let nobody tetch dat room ; 
 hit al'ays sort o' secret to her after dat. And Meh 
 Lady she took holt de plantation, an' ole Billy wuz 
 her head man. 
 
 " Dat's de way 'twuz for two years tell mos' in de 
 summer. Den 
 
 " Hit happen one day. I wuz jes' come out meh 
 house after dinner, gwine to de stable. I warn' 
 studyin' 'bout Yankeys, I wuz jes' studyin' 'bout 
 how peaceable ev'ything wuz, when I heah some- 
 body hollerin', and heah come two womens 'cross de 
 hill from de quarters, hard as dee could tyah, wid dee 
 frocks jes' flying. One o' de maids in de yard de first 
 to ketch de wud, and she say, ' De Yankeys ! ' And 
 'fo' Gord ! de wuds warn' out her mouf befo' de 
 whole top o' de hill wuz black wid 'em. Yo' could 
 see 'em gallopin' and heah de s'o'des rattlin' spang 
 at de house. Meh heart jump right up in meh mouf. 
 But I step back in meh house and got meh axe. 
 And when I come out, de black folks wuz all run out 
 dee houses in de back yard, talkin' and predictifyin' ; 
 and some say dee gwine in de house and stan' behin' 
 Meh Lady ; and some dee gwine git onder de beds ; 
 and some wuz pacifyin' 'em, and sayin', dee ain' gwi' 
 do nuttin'. I jes' parse long by 'em right quick, and 
 
90 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 went 'cross de yard to de house, and I put meh .head 
 in and say : 
 
 " * De Yankeys yander comin' down de hill.' 
 "You ought to 'a' seen dee face. Meh Lady* 
 hands drapt in her lap, and she looked at Mistis so 
 anxious, she skeer' me. But do' her face tu'n 
 mighty white, 't warn' mo' 'n a minute. She riz 
 right quiet, and her head wuz jes' as straight as Meh 
 Lady. She says to her : 
 
 " ' Hadn' you better stay here ? ' 
 " ' No,' says she, ' I will go with you.' 
 " * Come on,' says she, and dee walked out de do', 
 and locked it behine her, and Mistis put de key in 
 her pocket. 
 
 " Jes' as she got dyah, dee rid into de yard, an' in 
 a minute it wuz jes' as full of 'em as a bait-go'd is o* 
 wums, ridin' 'g'inst one anurr, an' hollerin' an' laugh- 
 in' an' cussin' ; an' outside de yard, an' todes de 
 stables, dee wuz jes' swarmin'. Dee ain' ax nobody 
 no odds 'bout nuttin', an' as to key, dee ain' got no 
 use fur dat ; jes' bu'st a do' down quicker 'n you kin 
 onlock it. Dee wuz in de smoke-house an' de store- 
 room quicker 'n I been tellin' you 'bout it. But dat 
 ain' 'sturb Mistis, nor Meh Lady nurr. Dee wuz 
 standin' in de front do' jes' as study as ef dee wuz 
 waitin' fur somebody whar come to dinner. Dee 
 come pourin' up de steps an* say dee gwine th'oo de 
 house. 
 
 " ' There is no one in there,' said Mistis. 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War. 91 
 
 " ' What are you doin' on de po'ch ? ' says one, sort 
 o' impident like, wid a thing on he shoulder. 
 
 " ' I always receive my visitors at my front do',' 
 says Mistis. 
 
 " ' Don't you invite 'em in ? ' says he, sort o' laugh- 
 in' an' pushin' by her. Jes' den I heah a noige, an' 
 we tu'n roun', an' de hall wuz right full on 'em had 
 come in de back do'. Mistis tunned right roun' an* 
 walk into de house right quick, puttin' Meh Lady 
 'long befo' her. Right straight th'oo 'em all she 
 walk, an' up to Marse Phil' room do', whar she stan' 
 wid her back 'g'inst it, holdin' de side. Dee wuz 
 squandered all over de house by dis time an' teckin' 
 ev'ything dee want an' didn' want, an' what dee 
 didn' teck dee wuz cuttin' up. But soon as dee 
 see Mistis at Marse Phil' do', dee come right up to 
 her. 
 
 " ' I want to go in dyah,' says one de same one 
 whar had spoke so discontemptiousto de Mistis on 
 de po'ch. 
 
 " ' You cyarn' do it,' says Mistis. 
 
 " ' Well, I'm goin' to,' says he. 
 
 " ' You are not,' says Mistis, lookin' at him right 
 study, wid her head up an' her eyes blazin'. I had 
 my axe in my han', an' I wuz mighty skeered, but I 
 know ef he had lay his han' on de Mistis I was gwine 
 split him wide open. He know better 'n to tetch 
 her, do'. He sort o' parly, like he warn' swade her, 
 an' all de urrs stop an' listen. 
 
92 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 " ' Who's in dyah ? ' says he. 
 
 " ' No one/ says Mistis. 
 
 " ' Well, what's in dyah ? ' says he. 
 
 " ' The memory of my blessed dead/ says Mistis. 
 She speak so solemn, hit 'peared to kind o' stall him, 
 an' he give back an' mumble some'n'. Pres'n'y do' 
 anurr one come up fum nigh de do', an' say to 
 Mistis : 
 
 " ' Where is you' son ? We want him/ 
 
 " ' Beyond your reach/ says Mistis, her voice kine 
 o' breakin', an' Meh Lady bu'st out cryin'. 
 
 " ' His grave is in de gyardin', she says, wid her 
 hankcher to her eyes. 
 
 " Gord ! suh ! I couldn' stan' no mo'. I jes' cotch 
 a grip on my axe, an' I ain' know what mout 'a' hap- 
 pen', but he took off he hat an' tu'n 'way. An' jes' 
 den sich a racket riz nigh de do', I thought must be 
 some on 'em got to killin' one 'nurr. I heah some- 
 body's voice rahin' an' pitchin' and callin' 'em thieves 
 an' hounds, an' in a minute, whack, whack, thump, 
 thump, I heah de licks soun' like he hittin' on bar- 
 rel-head, an' I see a s'o'de flyin' like wheel-spokes, 
 an' de men in de hall dee jes' squander ; an' as de 
 larst one jump off de po'ch, a young gent'man 
 tunned an' walked in de do', puttin' he s'o'de back 
 in he scabbard. When he got 't in, he teck off he 
 cap, an' walkin' 'bout half-way up to we all, he 
 say: 
 
 " * I kinnot 'pologize 'nough, madam, for dese out- 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War. 93 
 
 'ages ; dee officers ought to be shot for toleratin' it. 
 It is against all orders.' 
 
 "'I don't know; it is our first 'sperience,' says 
 Mistis. 'We are much ondebted to you, though, 
 suh.' 
 
 " ' Mayn't I interduce myself? ' says he, comin' up 
 a little closer to we all, an' meckin' anurr bow very 
 grand. ' I think I may claim to be a kinsman at 
 least of my young Southern cousin here ' (meckin' a 
 bow to Meh Lady whar wuz standin' lookin' at him) ; 
 ' I'm half Virginian myself. I am Captain Wilton, 
 the son of Colonel Churchill Wilton, of de ole army,' 
 says he. 
 
 u ' It is impossible,' says Mistis, bowin' low'n him. 
 ' Churchill Wilton was a Virginian, do' he lived at de 
 Norf ; he wuz my husband's cousin an' my dear 
 friend.' (He come from New York or somewhar, 
 an' he had been co'tin' Mistis same time Marster co't 
 her. I know him well : he gi' me a yaller satin wes- 
 kit ; a likely gent'man too, but Marster beat him. 
 You know he gwine do dat.) ' But you cannot be 
 his son, nor a Virginian ; Virginians never invade 
 Virginia.' 
 
 " ' But I am, neverdeless,' says he, sort o' smilin' ; 
 ' an' I have, as a boy, often hear' him speak of 
 you.' 
 
 " ' We claim no kinsmen among Virginia's ene- 
 mies,' says Meh Lady, speakin' fur de fust time, wid 
 her eyes flashin', an' teckin' holt of Mistis' han', an' 
 
94 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 raisin' herse'f up mighty straight. She wuz standin' 
 by her ma, I tell you ; dee bofe had de same sperit 
 de chip don' fly fur fum de stump. But he wuz 
 so likely-lookin', standin' dyah in de gre't hall meck- 
 in' he bow, an' sayin' he Cap'n Wilton, I mos' think 
 she'd 'a' gi'n in ef it hadn' been fur dat blue uniform 
 an' dat s'o'de by he side. De wud seemed to hut 
 him mons'ous do', an' he raise he head up mighty 
 like we all folks when dee gittin' outdone. Mistis, 
 she add on to Meh Lady, an' answer he 'quest 'bout 
 dinner. Ez he had come to teck possession, says 
 she, de whole place wuz his, an' he could give what 
 orders he please, on'y she an' Meh Lady would 
 'quest to be excused ; an' wid dat she took Meh 
 Lady' han', an' wid a gre't bow start to sweep by 
 him. But dee ain' git ahead o' him; befo' dee git 
 de wuds out dee mouf, he meek a low bow hisse'f 
 an' say he beg dee pardin, he cyarn' intrude on ladies, 
 an' wid dat he sort o' back right stately to de front 
 do', an' wid anurr bow done gone, he saber clam'rin 
 down de steps. I 'clar', I wuz right sorry fur him, 
 an' I b'lieve Mistis an' Meh Lady dee wuz too, 
 'cause he sut'n'y did favor Marse Phil when he r'ar 
 he head up so tall, an' back out dat do' so gran'. 
 Meh Lady mine smite her good, 'cause she tu'n to 
 me an' tell me to go and tell 'Lijah to see ef he 
 couldn' get him some'n', an' call him, an' pres'n'y 
 she come in de dinin'-room lookin' herse'f. After 
 'Lijah set de place do', an' went out to look fur him, 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War. 95 
 
 dyah wuz a soldier standin' at ev'y po'ch right solum, 
 an' anurr one at de kitchin ; an' when we come to 
 fine out, dee wuz guards Cap'n Wilton done pos' 
 dyah to p'teck de house, but he done gone 'long, so 
 I give he snack to de guards. 
 
 " Well, dee took mos' all de corn dat our folks 
 done lef out de corn-house, an' after a while mos' 
 on 'em bridle up an' went 'long, an' den at larst de 
 guards dee went 'long 'hind de turrs ; an' de larst 
 one hadn' hardly got to de een de avenue when heah 
 come over de hill some o' our men ridin' 'long de 
 road fum turr way. Meh Lady wuz standin' in de 
 yard looking mighty 'strustid at de way dee done do 
 de place, 'cause dee had done teoh it all to pieces ; 
 an' her eyes light up at de sight o' our men, an' she 
 sort o' wave her hankcher at 'em, an' dee wuz comin' 
 down de hill turr side de creek right study, when, as 
 Gord would have it, we heah a horse foot flyin', an' 
 right fum turr way right down de avenue, he horse 
 in a lather, come dat same young gent'man, Cap'n 
 Wilton. Our mens see him at de same time, an' 
 start to gallopin' down de hill to git him. He am' 
 mine 'em do'; he gallop up to de gate an' pull a letter 
 out he pocket. Meh Lady she wuz so consarned 'bout 
 him, she sort o' went todes him, callin' to him to do 
 pray go 'way. He ain' mine dat ; he jes' set still 
 on he nick-tail bay, an' hole he paper todes her right 
 patient, tell she run down de walk close up to him, 
 beggin' him to go 'way. Den he teck off he cap an' 
 
g6 In Ole Virginia, 
 
 ben' over, an' present her de paper he got, an' tell 
 her hit a letter he got fum Gen'l McClenan, he come 
 back to gi' her. Meh Lady, chile ! she so busy beg- 
 gin' him to go 'way an' save hisse'f, she forgit to 
 thank him. She jes' pleadin' fur him to go, an' hit 
 'pear like de mo' she beg, de mo' partic'ler he settin' 
 dyah at de gate lookin' at her, not noticin' our mens, 
 wid a sort o' cu'yus smile on he face, tell jes' as our 
 mens gallop up in one side de yard, an' call to him 
 to s'render, he say ' Good-by, an' tu'nned an' lay he 
 gre't big bay horse' foot to de groun'. Dee shoot at 
 him an' ride after him, an' Meh Lady she holler to 
 'em not to shoot him ; but she needn' fluster herse'f, 
 dee jes' as well try to shoot de win', or ride to ketch 
 a bud, de way dat horse run. He wuz a flyer! He 
 run like he jes' start, an' de Cap'n done ride him 
 thirty miles sence dinner to git dat paper fum Gen'l 
 McClenan fur Meh Lady. 
 
 " Well, suh, dat night de plantation wuz fyah 'live 
 wid soldiers our mens ; dee wuz movin' all night 
 long, jes' like ants, an' all over todes de gre't road 
 de camp-fires look like stars ; an' nex' mornin' dee 
 wuz movin' 'fo' daylight, gwine 'long down de road, 
 an' 'bout dinner-time hit begin, an' from dat time 
 tell in de night, right down yander way, de whole 
 uth wuz rockin'. You'd a-thought de wull wuz split- 
 tin open, an' sometimes ef you'd listen right good 
 you could heah 'em yellin', like folks in de harves'- 
 fiel' hollerin' after a ole hyah. 
 
Me/i Lady : A Story of the War. 97 
 
 " De nex' day we know we all done scotch 'em, 
 an' dee begin to bring de wounded an' put 'em in 
 folks' houses. Dee bring 'em in amb'lances an' 
 stretchers, tell ev'y room in de house wuz full up, 
 'sep' on'y Mistis' chahmber an' Meh Lady' room an' 
 Marse Phil' room. An' dyah wuz de grettest cuttin' 
 up o' sheets an' linen an' things fur bandages an' 
 lint you ever see. Mistis an' Meh Lady even cut up 
 dee under-clo'es fur lint, 'cause you know dee wuz 
 'bleeged to have linen, an' Mistis an' Meh Lady teoh 
 up dee under-clo'es tell dee got smack out. Hannah 
 had to go 'long afterwards an' gi' 'em some dee done 
 done gi' her. Well, so 'twuz, de house wuz full like 
 a hospittle, an' doctors gwine in an' out, an' ridin' 
 back'ards an' for'ards, an' cuttin' off legs an' arms, 
 an' hardly got time to tu'n 'roun'. 'Twuz mighty 
 hard on Meh Lady, but she had grit to stan' it. Hi ! 
 de ve'y mornin' after de battle a doctor come out de 
 room whar a wounded gent'man wuz, an' ketch sight 
 o' Meh Lady parsin' th'oo de hall, an' say, ' I want 
 you to help me,' an' she say, ' What you want me to 
 do?' an' he say, 'You've got to hold a man's arm,' 
 an' she say, ' To bandage it ? ' an' he say, ' No, to 
 cut it off ; ' an' she say she cyarn' do it, an' he say 
 she kin an' she must. Den she say she'll faint, an' 
 he say ef she do he'll die, an' he ain' got a minute to 
 spyah now. Den ef she ain' walk right in an' hole 
 he arm, tell de doctor cut 't off an' dress it, an' den 
 widout a wud she say, ' Is you done?' an' he say, 
 
98 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 ' Yes ; ' an' she walk out an' cross de yard to her 
 mammy' house right quick, an' fall right dead down 
 on de flo'. I wan' dyah, but Hannah sut'n'y wuz 
 outdone 'bout dat thing, an', you know, she ain' 
 nuver let Mistis know a wud 'bout it, not nuver 
 she so feared she'd 'sturb her ! Dat's de blood she 
 wuz ; an' dem wuz times folks wa'n't dem kind ! 
 Well, dat same evenin' de day after de battle Meh 
 Lady she ax one de doctors ef many o' de cav'lry 
 wuz into de fight, an' he say she'd think so ef she'd 
 been dyah ; dat de cav'lry had meek some splendid 
 charges bofe sides ; dat de Yankey cav'lry had charge 
 th'oo a bresh o' pines on de 'streme left spang up 
 'g'inst our breas'wucks, an' a young Yankey cap'n in 
 de front o' all, wid he cap on he s'o'de, on a nick-tail 
 bay, had led 'em, an' had spur he horse jam up to 
 our line, an' bofe had fall up 'g'inst de breas'wucks. 
 I tell you he sut'n'y wuz pleased wid him ; he say 
 he nuver see a braver feller ; he had made a p'int to 
 try an' save him (an' he'd like to 'a' had dat horse 
 too), but he was shot so bad he fear'd 'tain' much 
 show fur him, as he sort o' knocked out he senses 
 when he fall as well as shot. An' he say, * He sich 
 a likely young feller, an' meek sich a splendid charge, 
 I teck a letter out he pocket to 'dentify him, an' 
 heah 'tis now,' he says ; * Cap'n Shelly Wilton,' he 
 says, handin' it to Meh Lady. 
 
 " When he say dat, Meh Lady ain' say nuttin', 
 an' Mistis she tu'n 'roun' an' walk in Marse Phil' 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War. 99 
 
 room right quick an' shet de do* easy. Den pres'n'y 
 she come out an' ax Meh Lady to have de kerridge 
 gitten, an' den she walk up to de doctor, an' ax him 
 won' he go down wid her to de place whar he lef 
 dat young Yankey cap'n an' bring him dyah to her 
 house. An' she say he her husband' cousin, an' she 
 onder obligations to him. So dee went, honey, down 
 to de battle-fiel' all roun' de road, an' 'twuz mos' 
 wuss 'n when we all went down to de Peninsular 
 after Marse Phil, de road wuz so full of wounded 
 mens ; an' when we fine him 'twuz right dyah at dat 
 gap he fall right dyah, an' dee had cyar'ed him 
 over de hill ; an' do' all say he 'bleeged to die, Mistis 
 she had him tecken up an' brung right to her house, 
 an' when we got home she lead de way an' went 
 straight long th'oo de hall ; an', befo' Gord ! she 
 opened de do' herse'f an' cyar him right in an' lay 
 him right down into Marse Phil' baid. Some say 
 hit 'cause he marster's kinfolk ; but Hannah, she 
 know, an' she say hit 'cause Mistis grievin' 'bout 
 Marse Phil. I ain' know huccome 'tis ; but dyah into 
 Marse Phil' baid dee put him, an' dyah he stay good, 
 an' Mistis an' Meh Lady to nuss him same like he 
 wuz Marse Phil hisse'f. 'Twuz a spell do', I tell 
 you ! Dyah wuz all de turrs well an' gone befo' he 
 know wherr he dead or 'live. Mistis, after de battle, 
 an' all de 'citement sort o' let down ag'in, had to 
 keep her room right constant, and all de nussin' 
 an' waitin' fall on Meh Lady an' Hannah, an' dee 
 
loo In Ole Virginia. 
 
 sut'n'y did do dee part faithful by all on 'em, till 
 fust one an' den anurr went away ; 'cause, you know, 
 we couldn' tell when de Yankeys wuz gwine to come 
 an' drive our mens back, an' our soldiers didn' want 
 to be tecken pris'ners, an' moved 'way. An' pres'n'y 
 dyah warn' none lef but jes' Cap'n Wilton, an' he 
 still layin' dyah in de baid, tossin' an* talkin', wid he 
 eyes wide open an' am' know nuttin'. De doctor 
 say he wound better, but he got fever, an' he cyarn' 
 hole out much longer ; say he'd been dead long ago 
 but he so strong. An' one night he went to sleep, 
 an' de doctor come over fum camp an' say he wan' 
 nuver gwine wake no mo' he reckon, jes' a byah 
 chance ef he ain' 'sturbed. An' he ax Meh Lady 
 kin she keep him 'sleep she reckon, an' she say she'll 
 try, an' she did, mon. Mistis she wuz sick in baid 
 an' dyah ain' nobody to nuss him, skusin' Meh Lady, 
 an' she set by dat baid all dat night an' fan him right 
 easy all night long ; all night long she fan him, an' 
 jes' befo' sun up he open he eyes an' look at her. 
 Hannah she jes' gone in dyah, thinkin' de chile tire' 
 to death, an' she say jes' as she tip in he open he 
 eyes an' he look at Meh Lady so cu'yus, settin' dyah 
 by him watchin' ; den he shet he eyes a little while 
 an' sleep a little mo' ; den he open 'em an' look 
 ag'in an' sort o' smile like he know her ; an' den he 
 went to sleep good, an' Hannah she tuck de fan an' 
 sont de chile to her own room to baid. Yes, suh, 
 she did dat thing, she did ! An' I heah him say 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War. 101 
 
 afterwards, when he wake up, all he could think 
 'bout wuz he done git to heaven. 
 
 " Well, after dat, Meh Lady she lef him to Mistis 
 an' Hannah, an' pres'n'y he git able to be holped 
 out on de big po'ch an' kivered up wid a shawl an' 
 things in a big arm-cheer. An' 'cause Mistis she 
 mos' took to her baid, an' keep her room right con- 
 stant, Meh Lady she got to entertain him. Oh ! 
 she sut'n'y did pomper him, readin' to him out o' 
 books, an' settin.by him on de po'ch. You see, he 
 done git he pay-role, an' she 'bleeged to teck keer 
 on him den, 'cause she kind o' 'sponsible for him, an* 
 he sut'n'y wuz satisfied, layin' dyah wid he gray 
 eyes followin' her study ev'ywhar she tu'n, jes' like 
 some dem pictures hangin' up in de parlor. 
 
 " I 'members de fust day he walked. He done 
 notify her, and she try to 'swade him, but he mon- 
 sus sot in he mind when he done meek it up, and 
 she got to gi' in, like women-folks after dee done 
 'spressify some ; and he git up and walk down de 
 steps, and 'cross de yard to a rose-bush nigh de gate 
 wid red roses on it, she walkin' by he side lookin' 
 sort o' anxious. When he git dyah, dee talk a little 
 while, den he breck one and gi' 't to her, and dee 
 come back. Well, he hadn' git back to he cheer 
 befo' heah come two or th'ee gent'mens ridin' th'oo 
 de place, one on 'em a gener'l, and turrs dem whar 
 ride wid 'em, our mens, and dee stop at de gate to 
 'quire de way to de hewn-tree ford down on de river 
 
IO2 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 and Meh Lady she went down to de gate to ax 'em 
 to 'light, and .to tell 'em de way down by de pond ; 
 and when she standin' dyah shadin' de sun from her 
 eyes wid a fan, and de rose in. her hand ('cause she 
 ain' got on no hat), de gener'l say : 
 
 " t You have a wounded soldier dyah ? ' 
 
 " ' Yes, he's a wounded Federal officer on parole,' 
 she says ; and he say, teckin' off he hat : 
 
 " ' Dee ain' many soldiers dat wouldn' envy him 
 he prison.' And den she bows to him sort o' 'fusin* 
 like, and her face mos' blushin' as de rose de Cap'n 
 done gi' her what she holdin' ; and when dee done 
 rid 'long, an' ain' stop, she ain' gone back to de po'ch 
 toreckly ; she come out, and gi' me a whole parecel 
 o' directions 'bout spadin' de border whar I 
 standin' heahin' 't all, wid de rose done stickin' in 
 her bosom. 
 
 " You'd think de way Meh Lady read to him dyah 
 on de big po'ch, she done forgit he her pris'ner and 
 Virginia' enemy. She ain' do' ; she jes' as rapid to 
 teck up for de rebels as befo' he come ; I b'lieve she 
 rapider ; she call herse'f rebel, but she ain' le' him 
 name it. I 'member one mornin' she come in out 
 de fiel' an' jump off her horse, an' set down by him 
 in her ridin'-frock, and she call herse'f a rebel, an' 
 pres'n'y he name us so too, an' she say he sha'n't 
 call 'em so, an' he laugh an' call 'em so ag'in, jes 1 
 dyahsen, an' she git up an' walk right straight in de 
 house, head up in de air. He tell her de rebels wuz 
 
Meh Lady: A Story of the War. 103 
 
 'treatin', but she ain' dignify to notice dat. He teck 
 up a book an' 'pose hese'f, but he ain' read much; 
 den he try to sleep, but de flies 'pear to pester him 
 might'ly ; den Hannah come out, an' he ax her is 
 she see Meh Lady in dyah. Hannah say, ' Nor/ 
 an' den he ax her won' she please go an' ax her to 
 step dyah a minute ; an' Hannah ain' spicion nuttin' 
 and went, an' Meh Lady say, ' No, she won',' 'cause 
 he done aggrivate her ; an' den he write her a little 
 note an' ax Hannah to gi' 't to her, an' she look at 
 it an' send 't back to him widout any answer. Den 
 he git mad. He twis' roun' in he cheer might'ly ; 
 but 'tain' do him no good, she ain' come back all 
 day, not tell he had to teck he pencil an' write her 
 a sho' 'nough letter ; den pres'n'y she come out on 
 de po'ch right slow, dressed all in white, and tell 
 him sort o' forgivin' dat he ought to be 'shamed o' 
 hisse'f, an' he sort o' laugh', an' look like he ain' 
 'shamed o' nuttin'. 
 
 " De sut'n'y wuz gittin' good-neighborly 'long 
 den. And he watch over her jes' like she got her 
 pay-role 'stid o' him. One day a party o' Yankeys, 
 jes' prowlin' roun' after divilment, come gallopin' in 
 th'oo de place, an' down to de stable, and had meh 
 kerridge-horses out befo' I know dee dyah. I run 
 in de house and tell Meh Lady. De Cap'n he wuz 
 in he room and he heah me, and he come out wid 
 he cap on, bucklin' on Marse Phil' s'o'de whar he 
 done teck down off de wall, and he order me to 
 
IO4 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 come 'long, and tell Meh Lady not to come out ; 
 and down de steps he stride and 'cross de yard out 
 th'oo de gate in de road to whar de mens wuz wid 
 meh horses at de fence, wid he face right set. He 
 ax' em one or two questions 'bout whar dee from 
 dat mornin'; den he tell 'em who he is and dat dee 
 cyarn' trouble nuffin' heah. De man wid meh 
 horses see de Cap'n mighty pale an' weak-lookin', 
 and he jes' laugh, an' gether up de halters gittin* 
 ready to go, an' call de urrs to come 'long. Well, 
 suh, de Cap'n' eye flash ; he ain' say a wud ; he jes 
 rip out Marse Phil' s'o'de an' clap it up 'ginst dat 
 man' side, an cuss him once ! You ought to 'a' seen 
 him le' dem halters go ! ' Now/ says de Cap'n, 
 ' you men go on whar you gwine ; dyah de road ; I 
 know you, an' ef I heah of you stealin' anything I'll 
 have you ev'y one hung as soon as I get back. 
 Now go.' An' I tell you, mon ! dee gone quick 
 enough. 
 
 " Oh ! I tell you he sut'n'y had de favor o' our 
 folks ; he ain' waste no wuds when he ready ; he 
 quick to r'ar, an' rank when he got up, jes' like all 
 our fam'bly ; Norf or Souf, dee ain' gwine stand no 
 projeckin'; dee's Jack Robinson. 
 
 " So 'twuz, Meh Lady sort o' got used to 'pendin' 
 on him, an' 'dout axin her he sort o' sensed when to 
 Vise her. 
 
 " Sometimes dee'd git in de boat on de pond, an* 
 she'd row him while he'd steer, 'cause he shoulder 
 
Meh Lady: A Story of the War. 105 
 
 ain' le' him row. I see 'em of a evenin' jes' sort o' 
 floatin' down deah onder de trees, nigh de bank, or 
 'mong dem cow-collards, pullin' dem water-flowers, 
 she ain' got no hat on, or maybe jes' a soldier's 
 cap on her head, an' hear 'em talkin' 'cross de 
 water so sleepy, an' sometimes he'd meek her 
 laugh jes' as clear as a bud. Dee war'n no pay- 
 role den ! 
 
 " All dis time, do', she jes' as good a rebel as 
 befo' he come. De wagons would come an' haul 
 corn, an' she'd 'tend to cookin' for de soldiers all 
 night long, jes' same, on'y she ain' talk to him 'bout 
 it, an' he sort o' shet he eye and read he book like 
 he ain' see it. She ain' le' Cap'n Wilton nor Cap'n 
 nuttin' else meek no diffunce 'bout dat ; she jes' 
 partic'lar to him 'cause he her cousin, dat's all, an' 
 got he pay-role ; we all white folks al'ays set 
 heap o' sto' by one nurr, dat's all she got in her 
 mind. 
 
 " I almos' begin' to spicionate some'n' myse'f, but 
 Hannah she say I ain' nuttin' but a ole nigger-fool, 
 I ain' know nuttin' 'bout white folks' ways ; an* 
 sho' 'nough, she done prove herse'f. Hit come 
 'long todes de larst o' fall, 'bout seedin'-wheat time ; 
 de weather been mighty warm, mos' like summer, 
 an' ev'ything sort o' smoky, hazy, like folks bunnin* 
 bresh ; an' one day d' come fum de post-office a let- 
 ter for de Cap'n, an' he face look sort o' comical 
 when he open it, an' he put it in he pocket ; an' 
 
io6 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 pres'n'y he say he got to go home, he got he ex- 
 changement. Meh Lady am' say nuttin' ; but after 
 while she ax, kind o' perlite, is he well enough yet 
 to go. He ain' meek no answer, an' she ain' say no 
 mo', den bofe stop talkin' right good. 
 
 " Well, dat evenin' dee come out, and set on de 
 po'ch awhile, she wid her hyah done smoove ; den 
 he say some'n to her, an' dee git up an' went to 
 walk ; an' fust he walk to dat red rose-bush an' pull 
 two or th'ee roses, den dee went saunterin' right 
 'long down dis way, he wid de roses in he han', 
 lookin' mighty handsome. Pres'n'y I hed to come 
 down in de fiel', an' when I was gwine back to de 
 house to feed, I strike for dis parf, an' I wuz walkin' 
 'long right slow ('cause I had a misery in dis hip 
 heah), an' as I come th'oo de bushes I hyah some- 
 body talkin', an' dyah dee wuz right at de gap, an' 
 he wuz holdin' her hand, talkin' right study, lookin' 
 down at her, an' she lookin' 'way fum him, ain' say- 
 in' nuttin', jes' lookin' so miser'ble wid de roses 
 done shatter all over in her lap an' on de groun'. I 
 ain' know which way to tu'n, an' I hyah him say he 
 wan' her to wait an' le' him come back ag'in, an' he 
 call her by her name, an' say, * Won't you ! ' an' she 
 wait a little while an' den pull her hand away right 
 slow ; den she say, sort o' whisperin', she cyarn'. 
 He say some'n' den so hoarse I ain' meck't out, an' 
 she say, still lookin' 'way fum him on de groun', dat 
 she cyarn' marry a Union soldier. Den he le' go 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War. 107 
 
 her hand an' rar hese'f up sort o' straight, an' say 
 some'n' I ain' meek out 'sep' hit would 'a' been kin- 
 der ef she had let him die when he wuz wounded, 
 'stid o' woundin' him all he life. When he say dat, 
 she sort o' squinch 'way from him like he mos' done 
 hit her, an' say wid her back todes him he ought 
 not to talk dat way, dat she know she been mighty 
 wicked, but she ain' know 'bout it, an' maybe . I 
 ain' know what she say, 'cause she start to cryin' 
 right easy, an' he teck her han' ag'in an' kiss it, an' 
 I slip roun' an' come home, an' lef 'em dyah at de 
 gap, she cryin' an' he kissin' her han'. 
 
 " I drive him over to de depot dat night, an' he 
 gi' me a five dollars in gold, an' say I must teck 
 keer o' de ladies, I'se dee main' pendence ; an' I tell 
 him I is, an' he sut'ny wuz sorry to tell me good- 
 by. 
 
 " An' Hannah say she done tell me all 'long de 
 chile ain' gwine mortify herself 'bout no Yankey 
 soldier, don' keer how pretty an' tall he is, an' how 
 straight he hole he head, an' dat she jes' sorry he 
 gone 'cause he her cousin. I ain' know so much 
 'bout dat do. Dat what Hannah al'ays say she tell 
 me. 
 
 " Well, suh, ef 'twarn' lonesome after dat ! Hit 
 'peared like whip'o'will sing all over de place ; ev'y- 
 whar I tu'n I ain' see him. I didn' know till he 
 gone how sot we all dun git on him ; 'cause I ain' 
 de on'y one dun miss him ; Hannah she worryin' 
 
108 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 'bout him, Mistis she miss him, an' Meh Lady she 
 gwine right study wid her mouf shet close, but she 
 cyarn' shet her eye on me : she miss him, an' she 
 signify it too. She tell Mistis 'bout he done ax her 
 to marry him some day an' to le' him come back, 
 an' Mistis ax what she say, an' she tell her, an' 
 Mistis git up out her cheer an' went over to her, an' 
 kiss her right sorf ; and Hannah say (she wuz in de 
 chahmber an' she hyah 'em), she say she broke out 
 cryin', an' say she know she ought to hate him, but 
 she don't, an' she cyarn', she jes' hate an' 'spise her- 
 self ; an' Mistis she try to comfort her ; an' she teck 
 up de plantation ag'in, but she ain' never look jes' 
 like she look befo' he come dyah an' walk in de hall, 
 so straight, puttin' up he s'o'de, an' when she ain' 
 claim kin wid him back out an' say he cyarn' intrude 
 on her, an' den ride thirty mile' to git dat paper an* 
 come an' set on he horse at de gate so study and 
 our mens gallopin' up in de yard to get him. She 
 wuck mighty study, and ride Dixie over de planta- 
 tion mighty reg'lar, 'cause de war dun git us so low, 
 wid all dem niggers to feed, she hed to tu'n roun' 
 right swift to git 'em victuals an' clo'es ; but she 
 ain' look jes' like she look befo' dat, an' she sut'n'y 
 do nuss dat rose-bush nigh de gate induschus. But 
 dem wuz de een o' de good times. 
 
 " Hit 'peared like dat winter all de good luck done 
 gone 'way fum de place ; de weather wuz so severe, 
 an' we done gi' de ahmy ev'ything, de feed done gi' 
 
Meh Lady: A Story of the War. 109 
 
 out, an' 'twuz rank, I tell you ! Mistis an' Meh 
 Lady sent to Richmon' an' sell dee bonds, an' some 
 dee buy things wid to eat, an' de rest dee gin de 
 Gov'ment, an' teck Confed'ate money for 'em. She 
 say she ain' think hit right to widhold nuttin', an' 
 she teck Marster' bonds an' sell 'em fur Confed'ate 
 Gunboat stock or some'n.' I use' to hyah 'em talkin' 
 'bout it. 
 
 " Den de Yankeys come an' got my kerridge- 
 horses ! Oh ! ef dat didn' hu't me ! I ain' git over 
 it yit. When we hyah dee comin' Meh Lady tell 
 me to hide de horses ; hit jes' as well, she reckon. 
 De fust time dee come, dee wuz all down in de river 
 pahsture, an' dee ain' see 'em, but now dee wuz up 
 at de house. An' so many been stealed I used to 
 sleep in de stalls at night to watch 'em ; so I teck 
 'em all down in de pines on de river, an' I down 
 dyah jes' as s'cure as a coon in de holler, when heah 
 dee come tromplin' and gallinupin', an' teck 'em 
 ev'y one, an' 'twuz dat weevly black nigger Ananias 
 done show 'em whar de horses is, an' lead 'em dyah. 
 He always wuz a mean po' white folks nigger any- 
 ways, an' 'twuz a pity Mistis ain' sell him long ago. 
 Ef I couldn' a teoh him all to pieces dat day ! I 
 b'lieve Meh Lady mo' 'sturb 'bout 'Nias showin' de 
 Yankeys whar de horses is den she is 'bout dee 
 teckin' 'em. 'Nias he ain' nuver dyah show he face 
 no mo', he went off wid 'em, an' so did two or th'ee 
 mo' 'o de boys. De folks see 'em when dee parse 
 
no In Ole Virginia. 
 
 th'oo Quail Quarter, an' dee 'shamed to say dee 
 gone off, so dee tell 'em de Yankeys cyar' 'em off, 
 but 'twarn' nothin' but a lie ; I know dee ain' cyar' 
 me off ; de ax me ef I don' wan' go, but I tell 'em 
 ' Nor.' 
 
 " Things wuz mons'ous scant after dat, an' me an' 
 Meh Lady had hard wuck to meek buckle and tongue 
 meet, I tell you. We had to scuffle might'ly dat 
 winter. 
 
 " Well, one night a cu'yus thing happen. We had 
 done got mighty lean, what wid our mens an' Yan- 
 keys an' all ; an' de craps ain' come in, an' de team 
 done gone, an' de fences done bu'nt up, an' things 
 gettin' mighty down, I tell you. And dat night I 
 wuz settin' out in de yard, jes' done finish smokin', 
 and studyin' 'bout gwine to bed. De sky wuz sort 
 o' thick, an' meh mine wuz runnin' on my horses, an* 
 pres'n'y, suh, I heah one on 'em gallopin' tobucket, 
 tobucket, tobucket, right swif 'long de parf 'cross 
 de fiel',- an' I thought to myself, I know Romilus' 
 gallop ; I set right still, an' he come 'cross de branch 
 and stop to drink jes' a moufful, an' den he come 
 up de hill. I say, ' Dat horse got heap o' sense ; he 
 know he hot, an' he ain' gwine hu't hese'f drinkin', 
 don' keer how thusty he is. He gwine up to de 
 stable now,' I say, ' an' I got to go up dyah an' le* 
 him in ; ' but 'stid o' dat, he tu'n 'roun' by de laun- 
 dry, an' come 'roun' de house to whar I settin', an' 
 stop, an' I wuz jes' sayin', ' Well, ef dat don' beat 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War. 1 1 1 
 
 any horse ever wuz in de wull ; how he know I 
 heah ? ' when somebody say, * Good-eveninY I sut'- 
 n'y wuz disapp'inted ; dyah wuz a man settin' dyah 
 in de dark on a gre't black horse, an' say he wan' me 
 to show him de way th'oo de place. He ax me ef I 
 warn' sleep, an' I tell him, 'Nor, I jes' studyin';' 
 den he ax me a whole parecel o' questions 'bout Mis- 
 tis and Marse Phil an' all, an' say he kin to 'em, an' 
 he used to know Mistis a long time ago. Den I ax 
 him to 'light, an' tell him we'd all be mighty glad to 
 see him ; but he say he 'bleeged to git right on ; an' 
 he keep on axin' how dee wuz an' how dee been, 
 an' ef dee sick an' all, an' so 'quisitive ; pres'n'y I 
 ain' tell him no mo' 'sep' dat dee all well 'skusin' 
 Mistis ; an' den he ax me to show him de way th'oo, 
 an' when I start, he ax me cyarn he go th'oo de 
 yard, dat de 'rection he warn' go, an' I tell him 
 1 Yes,' an' le' him th'oo de back gate, an' he ride 
 'cross de yard on de grahss. As he ride by de rose- 
 bush nigh de gate, he lean over, an' I thought he 
 breck a switch off, an' I tell him not to breck dat ; dat 
 Meh Lady' rose-bush, whar she set mo' sto' by den 
 all de res' ; an' he say, ' Tis a rose-bush, sho' 'nough,' 
 an' he come 'long to de gate, holdin' a rose in he 
 hand. Dyah he ax me which is Mistis' room, and I 
 tell him, * De one by de po'ch,' an' he say he s'pose 
 dee don' use upstyars much now de fam'bly so 
 small ; an' I tell him, ' Nor,' dat Meh Lady' room 
 right next to Mistis' dis side, an' he stop an' look 
 
112 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 good ; den he come 'long to de gate, an' when I ax 
 him which way he gwine, he say, * By de hewn-tree 
 ford.' An' blessed Gord ! ef de wud ain* bring up 
 things I done mos' forgit dat gener'l ridin' up to 
 de gate, an' Meh Lady standin' dyah, shadin' her 
 eyes, wid de rose de Cap'n done gi' her off dat same 
 bush, an' de gener'l say he envy him he prison. I 
 see him jes' plain as ef he standin' dyah befo' me, 
 an' heah him axin' de way to de hewn-tree ford ; but 
 jes' den I heah some'n jingle, an' he jes' lean over 
 an' poke some'n heavy in my hand, an' befo' I ken 
 say a wud he gone gallopin' in de dark. And when 
 I git back to de light, I find six gre't big yaller gold 
 pieces in meh hand, look like gre't pats o' butter, 
 an' ef 't hadn' been for dat I'd 'mos' 'a' believe' 
 'twuz a dream ; but dyah de money an' dyah de 
 horse-track, an' de limb done pull off Meh Lady' 
 rose-bush. 
 
 " I hide de money in a ole sock onder de j'ice, 
 and I p'int to tell Meh Lady 'bout it ; but Hannah, 
 she say I ain' know who 'tis jes' s'picion (and so I 
 ain' den) ; and I jes' gwine 'sturb Mistis wid folks 
 ridin' 'bout th'oo de yard at night, and so I ain' say 
 nuttin' ; but when I heah Meh Lady grievin' 'bout 
 somebody done breck her rose-bush an' steal one of 
 her roses, I mighty nigh tell her who I b'lieve 
 'twuz, an' I would, on'y I don't orn' aggrivate Han- 
 nah. You know 'twon't do to aggrivate women- 
 folks. 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War. 113 
 
 " Well, 'twarn' no gre't while after dat de war 
 broke ; 'twuz de nex' spring 'bout plantin'-corn time, 
 on'y we am' plant much 'cause de team so weak ; 
 stealin' an' Yankey teckin' together done clean us 
 up, an' Mistis an' Meh Lady had to gi' a deed o' 
 struss on de Ian' to buy a new team dat spring, befo' 
 we could breck up de corn-land, an' we hadn' git 
 mo' 'n half done fo' Richmon' fall an' de folks wuz 
 all free ; den de army parse th'oo an' some on 'em 
 come by home, an' teck ev'y blessed Cord's horse 
 an' mule on de place, 'sep' one mule George, whar 
 wuz bline, an' dee won' have him. Dem wuz turri- 
 ble times, an' ef Meh Lady an' Mistis didn' cry ! not 
 'cause dee teck de horses an' mules we done get 
 use' to dat, an' dat jes' meek 'em mad and high-spir- 
 ited -but 'cause Richmon' done fall an' Gener'l Lee 
 surrendered. Ef dee didn' cry ! When Richmon' 
 fall dee wuz 'stonished, but dee say dat ain' meek no 
 diffunce, Gener'l Lee gwine whip 'em yit ; but when 
 dee heah Gener'l Lee done surrender, dee gin up ; 
 fust dee wouldn' b'lieve it, but dee sut'n'y wuz 
 strusted. Dee grieve 'bout dat 'mos' much as when 
 Marse Phil die. Mistis she ain' nuver rekiver. She 
 wuz al'ays sickly and in bed like after dat, and Meh 
 Lady and Hannah dee use' to nuss her. After de 
 fust year or so mos' o' de folks went away. Meh 
 Lady she tell 'em dee better go, dat dee'l fine dem 
 kin do mo' for 'em 'en she kin now ; heap on 'em 
 say dee ain' gwine way, but after we so po' dee went 
 
 8 
 
114 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 'way, do' Meh Lady sell some Mistis' diamonds to 
 buy 'em some'n to eat while dee dyah. 
 
 " Well, 'twan' so ve'y long after dis, or maybe 
 'twuz befo', 'twuz jes' after Richmon' fall, Mistis get 
 a letter fum de Cun'l dat's Cap'n Wilton ; he done 
 Cim'l den tellin' her he want her to le' him come 
 down an' see her an' Meh Lady, an* he been love 
 Meh Lady all de time sence he wounded heah in de 
 war, an' al'ays will love her, an' won' she le' him 
 help her any way ; dat he owe Mistis an' Meh Lady 
 he life. Hannah heah 'em read it. De letter 'sturb 
 Mistis might'ly, an' she jes' put it in Meh Lady' han's 
 an' tu'n 'way widout a wud. 
 
 " Meh Lady, Hannah say, set right still a minute 
 an' look mighty solemn ; den she look at Mistis sort 
 o' sideways, an' den she say, * Tell him no.' An* 
 Mistis went over an' kiss her right sorf. 
 
 " An' dat evenin' I cyar de letter whar Mistis 
 write to de office. 
 
 " Well, 'twarn' so much time after dat dee begin 
 to sue Mistis on Marster's debts. We heah dee 
 suin' her in de co't, an' Mistis she teck to her bed 
 reg'lar wid so much trouble, an' say she hope she 
 won' nuver live to see de place sold, an' Meh Lady 
 she got to byah ev'ything. She used to sing to 
 Mistis an' read to her an' try to hearten her up, 
 meckin' out dat 'tain' meek no diffunce. Hit did 
 do', an' she know it, 'cause we po' now, sho' 'nough ; 
 an' dee wuz po'er 'n Hannah an' me, 'cause de Ian' 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War. 1 1 5 
 
 am' got nobody to wuck it an' no team to wuck it 
 wid, an' we ain' know who it b'longst to, an' hit all 
 done all grow up in bushes an' blackberry briers ; 
 ev'y year hit grow up mo' an mo', an' we git po'er 
 an' po'er. Mistis she boun' to have flour, ain' been 
 use' to nuttin' but de fines' bread, jes' as white as 
 you' shu't, an' she so sickly now she got to have 
 heap o' things, tell Meh Lady fyar at her wits' een 
 to git 'em. Dat's all I ever see her cry 'bout, when 
 she ain' got nuttin' to buy what Mistis want. She 
 use to cry 'bout dat do. But Mistis ain' know 
 nothin' 'bout dat, she think Meh Lady got heap 
 mo'n she is, bein' shet up in her room now all de 
 time. De doctor say she got 'sumption, an' Meh 
 Lady doin' all she kin to keep 't fum her how po' 
 we is, smilin' an' singin' fur her. She jes' whah her- 
 se'f out wid it, nussin' her, wuckin' fur her, singin' 
 to her. Hit used to hu't me sometimes to heah 
 de chile singin' of a evenin' things she use to sing in 
 ole times, like she got ev'ything on uth same as 
 befo' de war, an' I know she jes' singin' to ease Mis- 
 tis min', an' maybe she hongry right now. 
 
 " 'Twuz den I went an' git de rest o' de money de 
 Cap'n gi' me dat night fum onder de j'ice (I had 
 done spend right smart chance on it gittin' things, 
 meckin' b'lieve I meek it on de farm), an' I put it 
 in meh ole hat' an' cyar it to Meh Lady, 'cause it sort 
 o' hers anyways ; an' her face sort o' light up when 
 she see de gold shinin', 'cause she sut'n'y had use 
 
n6 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 for it, an' she ax me whar I git so much money, an* 
 I tell her somebody gi' 't to me, an' she say what I 
 gwine do wid it. An' I tell her it hern, an' she say 
 how, an' I tell her I owe it to her for rent, an' she 
 bu'st out cryin' so she skeer me. She say she owe 
 us ev'ything in de wull, an' she know we jes' stayin' 
 wid 'em 'cause dee helpless, an' sich things, an' she 
 cry so I upped an' tole her how I come by de money, 
 an' she stop an' listen good. Den she say she cyarn' 
 tech a cent o' dat money, an' she oodn', mon, tell I 
 tell her I wan' buy de mule ; an' she say she consider 
 him mine now, an' ef he ain' she gi' 't to me, an' I say, 
 nor, I wan' buy him. Den she say how much he 
 wuth, an' I say a hunderd dollars, but I ain' got dat 
 much right now, I kin owe her de res' ; an' she breck 
 out laughin', like when she wuz a little girl an' 
 would begin to laugh ef you please her, wid de tears 
 on her face an' dress, sort o' April-like. Hit gratify 
 me so, I keep on at it, but she say she'll teck twenty 
 dollars for de mule an' no mo', an' I say I ain' gwine 
 disqualify dat mule wid no sich price ; den pres'n'y 
 we 'gree on forty dollars, an' I pay it to her, an' she 
 sont me up to Richmon' next day to git things for 
 Mistis, an' she al'ays meek it a p'int after dat to 
 feed George a little some'n' ev'y day. 
 
 " Den she teck de school ; did you know 'bout dat ? 
 Dat de school-house right down de road a little 
 piece. I reckon you see it as you come 'long. I 
 ain' b'lieve it when I heah 'em say Meh Lady gwine 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War, 1 1 7 
 
 teach it. I say, * She teach niggers ! dat she am' ! 
 not my young mistis.' But she laugh at me an' 
 Hannah, an' say she been teachin' de colored chil'n 
 all her life, ain' she ? an' she wan' Hannah an' me to 
 ease Mistis' min' 'bout it ef she say anything. I 
 sut'n'y was 'posed to it, do'; an' de colored chil'n she 
 been teachin' wuz diflunt dee b'longst to her. But 
 she al'ays so sot on doin' what she gwine do, she 
 meek you b'lieve she right don' keer what 'tis ; an' I 
 tell her pres'n'y, all right, but ef dem niggers impi- 
 dent to her, jes' le' me know an' I'll come down dyah 
 an' wyah 'em out. So she went reg'lar, walk right 
 'long dis ve'y parf wid her books an' her little basket. 
 An' sometimes I'd bring de mule for her to ride home 
 ef she been up de night befo' wid Mistis ; but she 
 wouldn' ride much, 'cause she think George got to 
 wuck. 
 
 " Tell 'long in de spring Meh Lady she done breck 
 down, what wid teachin' school, an' settin' up, an' 
 bein' so po', stintin' for Mistis, an' her face gittin' 
 real white 'stid o' pink like peach-blossom, as it used 
 to be, on'y her eyes dee bigger an' prettier'n ever, 
 'sep' dee look tired when she come out o' Mistis' 
 chahmber an' lean 'g'inst de do', lookin' out down de 
 lonesome road ; an' de doctor whar come from Rich- 
 rnon' to see Mistis, 'cause de ain' no doctor in de 
 neighborhood sence de war, tell Hannah when he 
 went 'way de larst time 'tain' no hope for Mistis, she 
 mos' gone, an' she better look mighty good after 
 
u8 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 Meh Lady too ; he say she mos' sick as Mistis, an* 
 fust thing she know she'll be gone too. Dat 's.turb 
 Hannah might'ly. Well, so 'twuz tell in de spring. 
 I had done plant meh corn, an' it hed done come 
 up right good ; 'bout mos' eight acres, right below 
 the barn whar de Ian' strong (I couldn' put in no mo' 
 'cause de mule he wuz mighty ole) ; an' come a man 
 down heah one mornin', riding a sway-back sorrel 
 horse, an' say dee gwine sell de place in 'bout a 
 mon'. Meh Lady hed gone to school, an' I ain' le' 
 him see Mistis, nor tell him whar Meh Lady is 
 nuther ; I jes' teck de message an' call Hannah so 
 as she kin git it straight ; an' when Meh Lady come 
 home dat evenin' I tell her. She sut'n'y did tu'n 
 white, an' dat night she ain' sleep a wink. After she 
 put her ma to sleep, she come out to her mammy* 
 house, an' fling herself on Hannah' bed an' cry an* 
 cry. 'Twuz jes' as ef her heart gwine breck ; she 
 say 'twould kill her ma, an' hit did. 
 
 " Mistis she boun' to heah 'bout it, 'cause Meh 
 Lady 'bleeged to breck it to her now ; and at fust it 
 'peared like she got better on it, she teck mo' notice- 
 ment o' ev'ything, an' her eyes look bright and shiny. 
 She ain' know not yit 'bout how hard Meh Lady 
 been had to scuffle ; she say she keep on after her to 
 git herse'f some new clo'es, a dress an' things, an' she 
 oont ; an' Meh Lady would jes' smile, tired like, an' 
 say she teachin' now, and don' want no mo* 'n she got, 
 an* her smile meek m* mos' sorry like she cryin'. 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War. 1 19 
 
 " So hit went on tell jes befo' de sale. An' one 
 day Meh Lady she done lef her ma settin' in her 
 cheer by de winder, whar she done fix her good wid 
 pillows, an' she done gone to school, an' Hannah 
 come out whar I grazin' de mule on de ditch-bank, 
 an' say Mistis wan' see me toreckly. I gi' Hannah 
 de lines, an' I went in an' knock at de do', an' when 
 Mistis am' heah, I went an' knock at de chahmber 
 do' an' she tell me to come in ; an' I ax her how she 
 is, an' she say she ain' got long to stay wid us, an' she 
 wan' ax me some'n, and she wan' me tell her de truth, 
 an' she say I al'ays been mighty faithful an' kind to 
 her an* hern, an' she hope Gord will erward me an' 
 Hannah for it, an' she wan' me now to tell her de 
 truth. When she talk dat way, hit sut'n'y hu't me, 
 an' I tole her I sut'n'y would tell her faithful. Den 
 she went on an' ax me how we wuz gettin' on, an' ef 
 we ain' been mighty po', an ef Meh Lady ain' 
 done stint herse'f more'n she ever know ; an' I tell 
 her all 'bout it, ev'ything jes' like it wuz de fatal 
 truth, 'cause I done promised her; an' she sut'n'y 
 was grieved, I tell you, an' the tears roll down an' 
 drap off her face on de pillow ; an' pres'n'y she say 
 she hope Gord would forgive her, an' she teck out 
 her breast dem little rocks Marster gi' her when she 
 married, whar hed been ole Mistis', an' she say she 
 gin up all the urrs, but dese she keep to gi' Meh 
 Lady when she married, an' now she feared 'twuz 
 pride, an' Gord done punish her, lettin' her chile 
 
I2O In Ole Virginia. 
 
 starve, but she ain' know hit 'zactly, an' ign'ance he 
 forgive ; an' she went on an' talk 'bout Marster an* 
 ole times when she fust come home a bride, an* 'bout 
 Marse Phil an' Meh Lady, tell she leetle mo* breck 
 my heart, an' de tears rain down my face on de flo'. 
 She sut'n'y talk beautiful. Den she gi' me de dia- 
 monds, an' dee shine like a handful of lightning- 
 bugs ! an' she tell me to teck 'em an' teck keer on 
 'em, an' gi' 'em to Meh Lady some time after she 
 gone, an' not le' nobody else have 'em ; an' would 
 n' me an' Hannah teck good keer o' her, an' stay 
 wid her, and not le' her wuck so hard, an' I tell her 
 we sut'n'y would do dat. Den her voice mos' gin 
 out an' she 'peared mighty tired, but hit look like 
 she got some'n still on her min', an' pres'n'y she say 
 I mus' come close, she mighty tired ; an' I sort o' 
 ben' todes her, an' she say she wan' me after she 
 gone, as soon as I kin, to get the wud to Meh Lady's 
 cousin whar wuz heah wounded indurin' o' de war 
 dat she dead, an' dat ef he kin help her chile, an' be 
 her pertector, she know he'll do it ; an' I ain' to le' 
 Meh Lady know nuttin' 'bout it, not nuttin' 't all, 
 an' to tell him he been mighty good to her, an' she 
 lef him her blessin'. Den she git so faint, I run an' 
 call Hannah, an' she come runnin' an' gi' her some 
 sperrits, an' tell me to teck de mule an go after Meh 
 Lady toreckly, an' so I did. When she got dyah, 
 do', Mistis done mos' speechless ; Hannah hed done 
 git her in de bed, which wan't no trouble, she so 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War. 1 2 1 
 
 light. She know Meh Lady, do', an' try to speak to 
 her two or th'ee times, but dee ain' meek out much 
 mo' 'n Gord would bless her and teck keer on her ; 
 an' she die right easy jes' befo' mornin'. An' Meh 
 Lady ax me to pray, an' I did. She sut'n'y die 
 peaceful, an' she look jes' like she smilin' after she 
 dead ; she sut'n'y wuz ready to go. 
 
 " Well, Hannah and Meh Lady lay her out in her 
 bes' frock, an' she sho'ly look younger'n I ever see 
 her look sence Richmon' fell, ef she ain' look 
 younger'n she look sence befo' de war ; an' de 
 neighbors, de few dat's left, an' de black folks roun* 
 cum, an' we bury her de evenin' after in thegyardin' 
 right side Marse Phil, her fust-born, whar we know 
 she wan' be ; an' her mammy she went in de house 
 after dat to stay at night in the room wid Meh Lady, 
 an' I sleep on the front po'ch to teck keer de house. 
 'Cause we sut'n'y wuz 'sturbed 'bout de chile ; she 
 ain' sleep an' she ain' eat an' she ain' cry none, an' 
 Hannah say dat ain' reasonable, which 'taint, 'cause 
 womens dee cry sort o' 'natchel. 
 
 " But so 'twuz ; de larst time she cry wuz dat 
 evenin' she come in Hannah' house, an' fling herse'f 
 on de bed, an' cry so grievous 'cause dee gwine sell de 
 place, an' 'twould kill her ma. She ain' cry no mo' ! 
 
 " Well, after we done bury Mistis, as I wuz sayin', 
 we sut'n'y wuz natchelly tossified 'bout Meh Lady. 
 Hit look like what de doctor say wuz sut'n'y so, an* 
 she gwine right after her ma. 
 
122 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 " I try to meek her ride de mule to school, an' tell 
 her I ain' got no use for him, I got to thin de corn ; 
 but she oodn't ; she say he so po' she don' like to gi' 
 him no mo' wuck 'n necessary ; an' dat's de fact, he 
 wuz mighty po' 'bout den, 'cause de feed done gi' 
 out an' de grass ain' come good yit, an' when mule 
 bline an' ole he mighty hard to git up ; but he been 
 a good mule in he time, an' he a good mule yit. 
 
 " So she'd go to school of a mornin', an' me or 
 Hannah one 'd go to meet her of a evenin' to tote 
 her books, 'cause she hardly able to tote herse'f den ; 
 an' she do right well at school (de chil'un all love 
 her) ; twuz when she got home she so sufTerin' ; den 
 her mind sort o' wrastlin wid itself, an' she jes' set 
 down an' think an study an' look so grieved. Hit 
 sut'n'y did hut me an' Hannah to see her settin 1 
 dyah at de winder o' Mistis' chahmber, leanin' her 
 head on her han' an' jes' lookin' out, lookin' out all 
 de evenin' so lonesome, and she look beautiful too. 
 Hannah say she grievin' herself to death. 
 
 " Well, dat went on for mo' 'n six weeks, and de 
 chile jes' settin' dyah ev'y night all by herse'f wid de 
 moonlight shinin' all over her, meckin' her look so 
 pale. Hannah she tell me one night I got to do 
 some'n, an' I say, ' What 'tis ? ' An' she say I got to 
 git de wud dat Mistis say to de Cap'n, dat de chile 
 need a pertector, an' I say, ' How?' And she say I 
 got to write a letter. Den I say, ' I cyarn' neither 
 read nor write, but I can get Meh Lady to write it ; ' 
 
Meh Lady: A Story of the War. 123 
 
 an* she say, nor I cyarn', 'cause ain' Mistis done spres- 
 sify partic'lar Meh Lady ain' to know nuttin' 'bout 
 it ? Den I say, ' I kin git somebody at de post- 
 office to write it, an' I kin pay 'em in eggs ; ' an' she 
 say she ain' gwine have no po' white folks writin' an* 
 spearin' 'bout Mistis' business. Den I say, ' How I 
 gwine do den ? ' An' she study a little while, an' 
 den she say I got to teck de mule an' go fine him. 
 I say, ' Hi ! Good Gord ! Hannah, how I gwine fine 
 him ? De Cap'n live 'way up yander in New York, 
 or somewhar or nuther, an' dat's further 'n Lynch- 
 bu'g, an' I'll ride de mule to death befo' I git dyah ; 
 besides I ain' got nothin' to feed him.' 
 
 " But Hannah got argiment to all dem wuds ; she 
 say I got tongue in meh head, an' I kin fine de way ; 
 an' as to ridin' de mule to death, I kin git down an* 
 le' him res', or I kin lead him, an' I kin graze him 
 side de road ef nobody oon le' me graze him in dee 
 pahsture. Den she study little while, an' den say 
 she got it now I must go to Richmon' an' sell de 
 mule, an' teck de money an' git on de kyars an' fine 
 him. Hannah, I know, she gwine wuck it, 'cause 
 she al'ays a powerful han' to 'ravel anything. But it 
 sut'n'y did hu't me to part wid dat mule, he sich a 
 ambitious mule, an' I tell Hannah I ain' done sidin' 
 meh corn ; an' she say dat ain' meek no difTunce, 
 she gwine hoe de corn after I gone, and de chile 
 grievin' so she feared she'll die, an' what good sidin' 
 corn gwine do den ? she grievin' mo'n she 'quainted 
 
124 I H Ok Virginia. 
 
 wid, Hannah say. So I wuz to go to Richmon* nex' 
 mornin' but one, befo' light, an' Hannah she wash 
 meh shu't nex' day, an' cook meh rations while Meh 
 Lady at school. Well, I knock off wuck right early 
 nex' evenin' 'bout two hours be sun, 'cause I wan* 
 rest de mule, an' after grazin' him for a while in de 
 yard, I put him in he stall, an' gi' him a half-peck o* 
 meal, 'cause dat de lahst night I gwine feed him ; 
 and soon as I went in wid de meal he swi'ch his tail 
 an' hump hese'f jes' like he gwine kick me ; dat's de 
 way he al'ays do when he got anything 'g'inst you, 
 'cause you sich a fool or anything, 'cause mule got 
 a heap o' sense when you know 'em. Well, I think 
 he jes' aggrivated 'cause I gwine sell him, an' I 
 holler at him right ambitious like I gwine cut him in 
 two, to fool him ef I kin, an' meek him b'lieve 'tain' 
 nothin' de matter. 
 
 An' jes' den I heah a horse steppin' 'long right 
 brisk, an' I stop an' listen, an' de horse come 'long 
 de pahf right study an' up todes de stable. I say, 
 'Hi! who dat?' an' when I went to de stall do', 
 dyah wuz a gent'man settin' on a strange horse wid 
 two white foots, an' a beard on he face, an' he hat 
 pulled over he eyes to keep de sun out'n 'em ; an' 
 when he see me, he ride on up to de stable, an' ax 
 me is Meh Lady at de house, an' how she is, an' a 
 whole parecel o' questions ; an' he so p'inted in he 
 quiration I am' had time to study ef I ever see him 
 befo', but I don' think I is. He a mighty straight, 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War. 125 
 
 fine-lookin' gent'man do', wid he face right brown 
 like he been wuckin', an' I ain' able to fix him no 
 ways. Den he tell me he heah o' Mistis' death, an' 
 he jes' come 'cross de ocean, an' he wan' see Meh 
 Lady partic'lar ; an' I tell him she at school, but it 
 mos' time for her come back ; an' he ax whichaways, 
 an' I show him de pahf, an' he git down an' ax me 
 ef I cyarn feed he horse, an' I tell him of co'se, do' 
 Gord knows I ain' got nuttin' to feed him wid 'sep' 
 grahss ; but I ain' gwine le' him know dat, so I ax 
 him to walk to de house an' teck a seat on de po'ch 
 tell Meh Lady come, an' I teck de horse and cyar 
 him in de stable like I got de corn-house full o' corn. 
 An' when I come out I look, an' dyah he gwine 
 stridin' 'way 'cross de'fiel' 'long de pahf whar Meh 
 Lady comin'. 
 
 " Well, I say, * Hi ! now he gwine to meet Meh 
 Lady, an' I ain' know he name nur what he want,' 
 an' I study a little while wherr I should go an' fin' 
 Hannah or hurry myse'f an' meet Meh Lady. Not 
 dat I b'lieve he gwine speak out de way to Meh 
 Lady, 'cause he sut'n'y waz quality, I see dat ; I 
 know hit time I look at him settin' dyah so straight 
 on he horse, 'mindin' me of Marse Phil, and he voice 
 hit sholy wuz easy when he name Meh Lady' name 
 and Mistis' ; but I ain' know but what he somebody 
 wan' to buy de place, an' I know Meh Lady ain' 
 wan' talk 'bout dat, an' ain' wan' see strangers no 
 way ; so I jes' lip out 'cross de fiel' th'oo a nigher 
 
126 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 way to hit de pahf at dis ve'y place whar de gap 
 wuz, an' whar I thought Meh Lady mighty apt to 
 res' ef she tired or grievin'. 
 
 " An' I hurry 'long right swift to git heah befo' de 
 white gent'man kin git heah, an' all de time I tu'nnin' 
 in meh min' whar I heah anybody got voice sound 
 deep an' cl'ar like dat, an' ax questions ef Meh Lady 
 well, dat anxious, an' I cyarn' git it. An' by dat 
 time I wuz done got right to de tu'n in de pahf dyah, 
 mos out o' breaf, an' jes' as I tu'nned round dat 
 clump o' bushes I see Meh Lady settin' right dyah 
 on de 'bankment whar de gap use' to be, wid her 
 books by her side on de groun', her hat off at her 
 feet, an' her head leanin' for'ard in her han's, an' her 
 hyah mos' tumble down, an' de sun jes' techin' it 
 th'oo de bushes ; an' hit all come to me in a minute, 
 jes' as clear as ef she jes' settin' on de gap dyah 
 yistidy wid de rose-leaves done shatter all on de 
 groun' by her, an' Cap'n Wilton kissin' her han' to 
 comfort her, an' axin' her oon' she le' him come back 
 some time to love her. An' I say, ' Dyah ! 'fo Gord ! 
 ef I ain' know him soon as I lay meh eyes on him ! 
 De pertector done come ! ' Den I know huccome 
 dat mule act so 'sponsible. 
 
 " An' jes' den he come walkin' long down de pahf, 
 wid he hat on de back o' he head an' he eyes on her 
 right farst, an' he face look so tender hit look right 
 sweet. She think hit me, an' she ain' move nor look 
 up tell he call her name ; den she mos' jump out her 
 
Meh Lady: A Story of the War. 127 
 
 seat, and look up right swift, an' give a sort o' cry, 
 an' her face light up like she tu'n't to de sun, an' he 
 retch out bofe he han's to her ; an' I slip' back so he 
 couldn' see me, an' come 'long home right quick to 
 tell Hannah. 
 
 " I tell her I know him soon as I see him, but she 
 tell me I lie, 'cause ef I had I'd 'a' come an' tell her 
 'bout hit, an' not gone down dyah interferin' wid 
 white folks ; an' she say I ain' nuver gwine have no 
 sense 'bout not knowin' folks, dat he couldn' fool 
 her; an' I don' b'lieve he could, a'tho' I ain' 'low dat 
 to Hannah, 'cause hit don' do to 'gree wid wimens 
 too much ; dee git mighty sot up by it, an den dee 
 ain' al'ays want it, nuther. Well, she went in de 
 house, an dus' ev'ything, an' fix all de furniture 
 straight, an' set de table for two, a thing ain' been 
 done not sence Mistis tooken sick ; an' den I see her 
 gwine 'roun' Meh Lady' rose-bush mighty busy, an' 
 when she sont me in de dinin'-room, dyah a whole 
 parecel o' flowers she done put in a blue dish in de 
 middle o' de table. An' she jes' as 'sumptious 'bout 
 dat thing as ef 'twuz a fifty-cents somebody done gi' 
 her. Well, den she come out, an' sich a cookin' as 
 she hed ; ef she ain' got more skillets an' spiders on 
 dat fire den I been see dyah fur I don' know how 
 long. It fyah do' me good ! 
 
 " Well, pres'n'y heah dee come walkin' mighty 
 aged-like, an' I think it all right, an' dee went up on 
 de po'ch an* shake hands a long time, an' den, meh 
 
128 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 Gord ! you know he tu'n roun' an' come down de- 
 steps, an' she gone in de house wid her handcher to 
 her eyes, cryin'. I call Hannah right quick an' say, 
 ' Hi, Hannah, good Gord A'mighty ! what de motter 
 now?' an' Hannah she look; den widout a wu'd she 
 tu'n roun' an' walk right straight 'long de pahf to de 
 house, an' went in th'oo de dinin'-room an' into de 
 hall, an' dyah she fine de chile done fling herself 
 down on her face on de sofa, cryin' like her heart 
 broke ; an' she ax her what de matter, an' she say 
 nuttin', an' Hannah say, ' What he been sayin' to 
 you ? ' an' she say, * Nuttin' ; ' an' Hannah ^ay, ' You 
 done sen' him 'way?' an' she say, ' Yes.' Den 
 Hannah she tell her what Mistis tell me de day she 
 die, an' she say she stop cryin' sort o', but she cotch 
 hold de pillar right tight like she in agony, an' she 
 say pres'n'y, * Please go 'way,' an' Hannah come 'way 
 an' come outdo's. 
 
 " An' de Cap'n, when he come down de steps, he 
 went to Meh Lady' rose-bush an' pull a rose off it, 
 an' put 't in a little book in he pocket ; an' den he 
 come down todes we house, an' he face mighty pale 
 an' 'strusted lookin', an' he sut'n'y wuz glad to see 
 me, an' he laugh' a little bit at me for lettin' him 
 fool me ; but I tell him he done got so likely an' 
 agreeable lookin', dat de reason I ain' know him. 
 An' he ax me to git he horse, an' jes' den Hannah 
 come out de house, an' she ax him whar he gwine; 
 an* he 'spon' he gwine home, an' he don' reckon he'll 
 
Meh Lady: A Story of the War. 129 
 
 ever see us no mo* ; an' he say he thought when he 
 come maybe 'twould be diff unt, an' he had hoped 
 maybe he'd 'a' been able to prove to Meh Lady 
 some'n he wan' prove, an' get her to le' him teck 
 keer o' her an' we all ; dat's what he come ten thou- 
 sand miles fur, he say ; but she got some'n in her 
 mine, he say, she cyarn' git over, an' now he got to 
 go 'way, an' he say he want us to teck keer on her, 
 an' stay wid her al'ays, and he gwine meek it right, 
 an' he gwine lef he name in Richmon' wid a gent'- 
 man, an' gi' me he 'dress, an' I mus' come up dyah 
 ev'y month an' git what he gwine lef dyah, and re- 
 port how we all is ; an' he say he ain' got nuttin' to 
 do now but to try an' reward us all fur all our kind- 
 ness to him, an' keep us easy, but he wa'n' nuver 
 comin' back, he guess, 'cause he got no mo' hope now 
 he know Meh Lady got dat on her mine he cyarn' 
 git over. An' he look down in de gyardin todes the 
 graveyard when he say dat, an' he voice sort o' 
 broke. Hannah she heah him th'oo right study, an' 
 he face look mighty sorrowful, an' he voice done mos' 
 gin out when he say Meh Lady got that on her mine 
 he cyarn' git over. 
 
 " Den Hannah she upped an' tole him he sut'n'y 
 ain' got much sense ef he come all dat way he 
 say, an' gwine 'way widout Meh Lady ; dat de chile 
 been dat pesterin' herse'f sence her ma die she ain' 
 know what she wan' mos', an' got in her mine ; an' 
 ef he ain' got de dictation to meek her know, he 
 9 
 
130 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 better go 'long back whar he came fum, an' he better 
 ain' never set he foot heah ; an', she say he sut'n'y 
 done gone back sence he driv dem Yankeys out de 
 do' wid he s'o'de, an' settin' dyah on he horse at de 
 gate so study, an' she say ef 'twuz dat man he'd be 
 married dis evenin'. Oh ! she was real savigrous to 
 him, 'cause she sut'n'y wuz outdone ; an' she tell 
 him what Mistis tell me de day she 'ceasted, ev'y 
 wud jes like I tell you settin' heah, an' she say now 
 he can go' long, 'cause ef he ain' gwine be pertector 
 to de chile de plenty mo' sufferin' to be, dat dee pes- 
 terin' her all de time, an' she jes' oon' have nuttin' 't 
 all to do wid 'em, dat's all. Wid dat she tu'n 'roun' 
 an' gone in her house like she ain' noticin' him, an' 
 he, suh ! he look like day done broke on 'im. I see 
 darkness roll off him, an' he tu'n roun' an' stride 
 'long back to de house, an' went up de steps th'ee 
 at a time. 
 
 " An' dee say when he went in, de chile was dyah 
 on de sofa still wid her head in de pillow cryin', 
 'cause she sut'n'y did care for him all de time, 
 an' ever sence he open he eyes an' look at her 
 so cu'yus, settin' dyah by him fannin' him all night 
 to keep him fum dyin', when he layin' dyah wounded 
 in de war. An' de on'y thing is she ain' been able 
 to get her premission to marry him 'cause he wuz 
 fightin' 'g'inst we all, an' 'cause she got 't in her mine 
 dat Mistis don' wan' her to marry him for dat ac- 
 count. An' now he gone she layin' dyah in de gre't 
 
Meh Lady: A Story of the War. 131 
 
 hall cryin' on de sofa to herse'f, so she ain' heah him 
 come up de steps, tell he went up to her, and kneel 
 down by her, an' put he arm 'roun' her and talk to 
 her lovin'. 
 
 " Hannah she went in th'oo de chahmber pres'n'y 
 to peep an' see ef he got any sense yit, an' when she 
 come back she ain' say much, but she sont me to de 
 spring, an' set to cookin' ag'in mighty induschus, an' 
 she say he tryin' to 'swade de chile to marry him to- 
 morrow. She oon' tell me nuttin' mo' 'sep' dat de 
 chile seem mighty peaceable, an' she don' know 
 wherr she marry him toreckly or not, 'cause she 
 heah her say she ain' gwine marry him at all, an' 
 she cyarn' marry him to-morrow 'cause she got her 
 school, an' she ain' got no dress ; but she place heap 
 o' 'pendence in him, Hannah say, an' he gone on 
 talkin' mighty sensible, like he gwine marry her 
 wherr or no, an' he dat protectin' he done got her 
 head on he shoulder an' talk to her jes' as 'fectionate 
 as ef she b'longst to him, an' she ain' say he kiss 
 her, bujt I done notice partic'lar she ain' say he 
 ain' ; an' she say de chile sut'n'y is might' satisfied, 
 an' dat all she gwine recite, an' I better go 'long an' 
 feed white folk's horse 'stid o' interferin' 'long dee 
 business ; an' so I did, an' I gi' him de larst half- 
 peck o' meal Hannah got in de barrel. 
 
 " An' when I come back to de house, Hannah 
 done cyar in de supper an' waitin' on de table, an 
 dee settin' opposite one nurr talkin', an' she po'in 
 
132 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 out he tea, an' he tellin' her things to make her 
 laugh an' look pretty, 'cross Hannah' flowers in de 
 blue bowl twix' 'em. Hit meek me feel right 
 young. 
 
 " Well, after supper dee come out an' went to 
 walk 'bout de yard, an' pres'n'y dee stop at dat red 
 rose-bush, and I see him teck out he pocket-book 
 an' teck some'n out it, and she say some'n, an' he 
 put he arm ne'm' mine, ef Hannah ain' say he kiss 
 her, I know 'cause de moon come out a little piece 
 right den an' res' on 'em, an' she sut'n'y look 
 beautiful wid her face sort o' tu'nned up to him, 
 smilin'. 
 
 " You mine, do', she keep on tellin' him she ain' 
 promise to marry him, an' of co'se she cyarn' marry 
 him to-morrow like he say ; she ain' nuver move 
 fum dat. But dat ain' 'sturb he mine now ; he keep 
 on laughin' study. Tell, 'bout right smart while 
 after supper, he come out an' ax me cyarn' I git he 
 horse. I say, 'Hi! what de matter? Whar you 
 gwine ? I done feed yo' horse.' 
 
 " He laugh real hearty, an' say he gwine to de 
 Co'te House, an' he wan' me to go wid him ; don* I 
 think de mule kin stan' it? an' her mammy will teck 
 keer Meh Lady. 
 
 " So in 'bout a hour we wuz on de road, an' de 
 last thing Meh Lady say wuz she cyarn' marry 
 him ; but he come out de house laughin', an' he 
 sut'n'y wuz happy, an* he ax me all sort o* ques- 
 
Meh Lady: A Story of the War. 133 
 
 tions 'bout Meh Lady, an' Marse Phil, an' de ole 
 times. 
 
 " We went by de preacher's an' wake him up 
 befo' day, an' he say he'll drive up dyah after break- 
 fast ; an' den we went on 'cross to de Co'te House, 
 an' altogether 'twuz about twenty-five miles, an' hit 
 sut'n'y did push ole George good, 'cause de Cun'l 
 wuz a hard rider like all we all white folks ; he come 
 mighty nigh givin' out, I tell you. 
 
 " We got dyah befo' breakfast, an' wash up, an' 
 pres'n'y de cluck, Mr. Taylor, come, an' de Cun'l 
 went over to de office. In a minute he call me, an* 
 I went over, an' soon as I git in de do' I see he 
 mighty pestered. He say, * Heah, Billy, you know 
 you' young mistis' age, don't you ? I want you to 
 prove it.' 
 
 " ' Hi ! yes, suh, co'se I knows it/ I says. ' Mistis 
 got her an' Marse Phil bofe set down in de book at 
 home.' 
 
 " ' Well, jes' meek oath to it,' says he, easy like. 
 1 She's near twenty-three, ain't she ? ' 
 
 "'Well, 'fo' Gord! Marster, I don' know 'bout 
 dat,' says I. * You know mo' 'bout dat 'n I does, 
 'cause you kin read. I know her age, 'cause I right 
 dyah when she born ; but how ole she is, I don' 
 know,' I says. 
 
 " ' Cyarn' you swear she's twenty-one ? ' says he, 
 right impatient. 
 
 " ' Well, nor, suh, dat I cyarn',' says I. 
 
134 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 " Well, he sut'n'y looked aggrivated, but he ain' 
 say nuttin', he jes' tu'n to Mr. Taylor an' say: 
 
 " * Kin I get a fresh horse heah, suh ? I kin ride 
 home an' get de proof an' be back heah in five hours, 
 ef I can get a fresh horse ; I'll buy him and pay well 
 for him too.' 
 
 " * It's forty miles dyah an* back,' says Mr. 
 Taylor. 
 
 " * I kin do it ; I'll be back heah at half-past twelve 
 o'clock sharp,' says de Cun'l, puttin' up he watch an' 
 pullin' on he gloves an' tu'nnin' to de do'. 
 
 " Well, he look so sure o' what he kin do, I feel 
 like I 'bleeged to help him, an' I say : 
 
 " ' I ain't know wherr Meh Lady twenty-th'ee or 
 twenty-one, 'cause I ain' got no learnin', but I know 
 she born on Sunday de thrashin'-wheat time two 
 years after Marse Phil wuz born, whar I cyar' in dese 
 ahms on de horse when he wuz a baby, an' whar 
 went in de ahmy, an' got kilt leadin' he bat'ry 
 in de battle 'cross de oat-fiel' down todes Wil- 
 liamsbu'g, an' de gener'l say he ruther been him 
 den President de Confederate States, an' he's 'sleep 
 by he ma in de ole gyardin at home now ; I bury 
 him dyah, an' hit's " Cun'l " on he tomb-stone dyah 
 now.' 
 
 " De Cun'l tu'n roun' an' look at Mr. Taylor, an' 
 Mr. Taylor look out de winder ('cause he know 
 'twuz so, 'cause he wuz in Marse Phil' bat'ry). 
 
 " * You needn' teck you' ride,' says he, sort o' 
 
Meh Lady : A Story of the War, 135 
 
 whisperin'. An' de Cun'l pick up a pen an' write a 
 little while, an' den he read it, an' he had done write 
 jes' what I say, wud for wud ; an' Mr. Taylor meek 
 me kiss de book, 'cause 'twuz true, an' he say he 
 gwine spread it in de ' Reecord ' jes' so, for all de 
 wull to see. 
 
 " Den we come on home, I ridin' a horse de Cun'l 
 done hire to rest de mule, an' I mos' tired as he, but 
 de Cun'l he ridin' jes' as fresh as ef he jes' start ; an' 
 he bring me a nigh way whar he learnt in de war, 
 he say, when he used to slip th'oo de lines an' come 
 at night forty miles jes' to look at de house an' see 
 de light shine in Meh Lady' winder. 
 
 " De preacher an' he wife wuz dyah when we git 
 home ; but you know Meh Lady ain' satisfied in her 
 mine yit. She say she do love him, but she don' 
 know wherr she ought to marry him, 'cause she ain' 
 got nobody to 'vise her. But he says he gwine be 
 her 'viser from dis time, an' he lead her to de do* 
 an' kiss her ; an' she went to git ready, an' de turr 
 lady wid her, an' her mammy wait on her, while I 
 wait on de Cun'l, an' be he body-servant, an' git he 
 warm water to shave, an' he cut off all he beard 'sep' 
 he mustache, 'cause Meh Lady jes' say de man she 
 knew didn' hed no beard on he face. An' Hannah 
 she sut'n'y wuz comical, she ironin' an' sewin' dyah 
 so induschus she oon' le' me come in meh own 
 house. 
 
 " Well, pres'n'y we wuz ready, an' we come out in 
 
1 36 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 de hall, an' de Cun'l went in de parlor whar dee wuz 
 gwine be married, an' de preacher he wuz in dyah, 
 an' dee chattin' while we waitin' fur Meh Lady ; an* 
 I jes' slip out an' got up in de j'ice an' git out dem 
 little rocks whar Mistis gin' me an' blow de dust off 
 'em good, and good Gord ! ef dee didn' shine ! I put 
 'em in meh pocket an' put on meh clean shu't an* 
 come 'long back to de house. Hit right late now, 
 todes evenin', an' de sun wuz shinin' all 'cross de 
 yard an' th'oo de house, an' de Cun'l he so impa- 
 tient he cyarn' set still, he jes' champin' he bit ; so 
 he git up an' walk 'bout in de hall, an' he sut'n'y 
 look handsome an' young, jes' like he did dat day 
 he stand dyah wid he cap in he hand, an' Meh Lady 
 say she ain' claim no kin wid him, an' he say he 
 cyarn' intrude on ladies, an' back out de front do', 
 wid he head straight up, an' ride to git her de letter, 
 an' now he walkin' in de hall waitin' to marry her. 
 An' all on a sudden Hannah fling de do' wide open, 
 an' Meh Lady walk out ! 
 
 " Gord ! ef I didn' think 'twuz a angel. 
 
 " She stan dyah jes' white as snow fum her head to 
 way back' down on de flo' behine her, an' her veil done 
 fall roun' her like white mist, an' some roses in her 
 han'. Ef it didn' look like de sun done come th'oo 
 de chahmber do' wid her, an' blaze all over de styars, 
 an' de Cun'l he look like she bline him. An' twuz 
 Hannah an' she, while we wuz 'way dat day, done 
 fine Mistis' weddin' dress an' veil an' all, down to de 
 
Meh Lady: A Story of the War. 137 
 
 fan an' little slippers 'bout big as two little white 
 ears o' pop-corn ; an' de dress had sort o' cobwebs 
 all over it, whar Hannah say was lace, an' hit jes' 
 fit Meh Lady like Gord put it dyah in de trunk for 
 her. 
 
 " Well, when de Cun'l done tell her how beautiful 
 she is, an' done meek her walk 'bout de hall showin' 
 her train, an' she lookin' over her shoulder at it an' 
 den at de Cun'l to see ef he proud o' her, he gin her 
 he arm ; an' jes' den I walk up befo' her an' teck 
 dem things out meh pocket, an' de Cun'l drap her 
 arm an' stan' back, an' I put 'em 'roun' her thote an' 
 on her arms, an' gin her de res', an' Hannah put 'em 
 on her ears, an' dee shine like stars, but her face 
 shine wus'n dem, an' she leetle mo' put bofe arms 
 'roun' meh neck, wid her eyes jes' runnin' over. An' 
 den de Cun'l gi' her he arm, an' dee went in de par- 
 lor, an' Hannah an' me behine 'em. An' dyah, 
 facin' Mistis' picture an' Marse Phil's (tooken when 
 he wuz a little boy), lookin' down at 'em bofe, dee 
 wuz married. 
 
 " An' when de preacher git to dat part whar ax 
 who give dis woman to de man, he sort o' wait an' 
 he eye sort o' rove to me disconfused like he ax me 
 ef I know ; an' I don' know huccome 'twuz, but I 
 think 'bout Marse Jeems an' Mistis when he ax me 
 dat, an' Marse Phil, whar all dead, an' all de scufflin' 
 we done been th'oo, an' how de chile ain' got no- 
 body to teck her part now 'sep' jes' me ; an' now, 
 
138 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 when he wait an' look at me dat way, an' ax me 
 dat, I 'bleeged to speak up, I jes' step for'ard an* 
 say: 
 
 " ' Ole Billy.' 
 
 "An* jes' den de sun crawl roun' de winder 
 shetter an' res' on her like it pourin' light all over 
 her. 
 
 " An' dat night when de preacher was gone wid 
 he wife, an Hannah done drapt off to sleep, I wuz 
 settin' in de do' wid meh pipe, an' I heah 'em set- 
 tin' dyah on de front steps, dee voices soun'in' low 
 like bees, an' de moon sort o' meltin' over de yard, 
 an' I sort o' got to studyin', an' hit 'pear like de 
 plantation 'live once mo', an' de ain' no mo' scufflin', 
 an' de ole times done come back ag'in, an' I heah 
 meh kerridge-horses stompin' in de stalls, an' de 
 place all cleared up ag'in, an' fence all roun' de 
 pahsture, an' I smell de wet clover-blossoms right 
 good, an' Marse Phil an' Meh Lady done come back, 
 an' runnin' all roun' me, climbin' up on meh knees, 
 callin' me ' Unc' Billy,' an' pesterin' me to go fishin', 
 while somehow Meh Lady an' de Cun'l, settin' dyah 
 on de steps wid dee voice hummin' low like water 
 runnin' in de' dark 
 
 An' dat Phil, suh," he broke off, rising from the 
 ground on which we had been seated for some time, 
 " dat Phil, suh, he mo' like Marse Phil 'n he like he 
 
Meh Lady: A Story of the War. 139 
 
 pa ; an' Billy he ain' so ole, but he ain' fur behine 
 
 him." 
 
 " Billy," I said ; " he's named after" 
 
 " Go 'way, Marster," he said deprecatingly, " who 
 
 gwine name gent'man after a ole nigger?" 
 
OLE 'STRACTED. 
 
 " A WE, little Ephum ! awe, little E-phum ! ef you 
 ! don' come 'long heah, boy, an* rock dis chile, 
 I'll buss you haid open ! " screamed the high-pitched 
 voice of a woman, breaking the stillness of the sum- 
 mer evening. She had just come to the door of the 
 little cabin, where she was now standing, anxiously 
 scanning the space before her, while a baby's plain- 
 tive wail rose and fell within with wearying monot- 
 ony. The log cabin, set in a gall in the middle of 
 an old field all grown up in sassafras, was not a very 
 inviting-looking place ; a few hens loitering about 
 the new hen-house, a brood of half-grown chickens 
 picking in the grass and watching the door, and a 
 runty pig tied to a " stob," were the only sign's of 
 thrift ; yet the face of the woman cleared up as she 
 gazed about her and afar off, where the gleam of 
 green made a pleasant spot, where the corn grew in 
 the river-bottom ; for it was her home, and the best 
 of all was she thought it belonged to them. 
 
 A rumble of distant thunder caught her ear, and 
 she stepped down and took a well-worn garment 
 from the clothes-line, stretched between two dog- 
 wood forks, and having, after a keen glance down 
 
Ole 'Stracted. 141 
 
 the path through the bushes, satisfied herself that 
 no one was in sight, she returned to the house, and 
 the baby's voice rose louder than before. The 
 mother, as she set out her ironing table, raised a 
 dirge-like hymn, which she chanted, partly from 
 habit and partly in self-defence. She ironed care- 
 fully the ragged shirt she had just taken from the 
 line, and then, after some search, finding a needle 
 and cotton, she drew a chair to the door and pro- 
 ceeded to mend the garment. 
 
 "Dis de on'ies' shut Ole 'Stracted got," she 
 said, as if in apology to herself for being so 
 careful. 
 
 The cloud slowly gathered over the pines in the 
 direction of the path ; the fowls carefully tripped 
 up the path, and after a prudent pause at the hole, 
 disappeared one by one within ; the chickens picked 
 in a gradually contracting circuit, and finally one or 
 two stole furtively to the cabin door, and after a 
 brief reconnoissance came in, and fluttered up the 
 ladder to the loft, where they had been born, and 
 yet roosted. Once more the baby's voice prevailed, 
 and once more the woman went to the door, and, 
 looking down the path, screamed, " Awe, little 
 Ephum ! awe, little Ephum ! " 
 
 " Ma'm," came the not very distant answer from 
 the bushes. 
 
 " Why 'n't you come 'long heah, boy, an' rock dis 
 chile?" 
 
142 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 " Yes'm, I cominV' came the answer. She waited, 
 watching, until there emerged from the bushes a 
 queer little caravan, headed by a small brat, who 
 staggered under the weight of another apparently 
 nearly as large and quite as black as himself, while 
 several more of various degrees of diminutiveness 
 struggled along behind. 
 
 " Ain't you heah me callin' you, boy ? You better 
 come when I call you. I'll tyah you all to pieces ! " 
 pursued the woman, in the angriest of keys, her 
 countenance, however, appearing unruffled. The 
 head of the caravan stooped and deposited his 
 burden carefully on the ground ; then, with a comi- 
 cal look of mingled alarm and penitence, he slowly 
 approached the door, keeping his eye watchfully on 
 his mother, and, picking his opportunity, slipped in 
 past her, dodging skilfully just enough to escape a 
 blow which she aimed at him, and which would 
 have " slapped him flat" had it struck him, but 
 which, in truth, was intended merely to warn and 
 keep him in wholesome fear, and was purposely 
 aimed high enough to miss him, allowing for the 
 certain dodge. 
 
 The culprit, having stifled the whimper with which 
 he was prepared, flung himself on to the foot of the 
 rough plank cradle, and began to rock it violently 
 and noisily, using one leg as a lever, and singing an 
 accompaniment, of which the only words that rose 
 above the noise of the rockers were " By-a-by, don't 
 
Ole 'Stracted. 143 
 
 you cry ; go to sleep, little baby ; " and sure enough 
 the baby stopped crying and went to sleep. 
 
 Eph watched his mammy furtively as she scraped 
 away the ashes and laid the thick pone of dough on 
 the hearth, and shovelled the hot ashes upon it. 
 Supper would be ready directly, and it was time to 
 propitiate her. He bethought himself of a mes- 
 sage. 
 
 " Mammy, Ole 'Stracted say you must bring he 
 shut ; he say he marster comin' to-night." 
 
 " How he say he is?" inquired the woman, with 
 some interest. 
 
 " He am' say jes say he want he shut. He sut- 
 ny is comical he layin' down in de baid." Then, 
 having relieved his mind, Eph went to sleep in the 
 cradle. 
 
 "'Layin' down in de baid?'" quoted the woman 
 to herself as she moved about the room. " I 'ain' 
 nuver 'hearn 'bout dat befo'. Dat sutny is a 
 comical ole man anyways. He say he used to live 
 on dis plantation, an' yit he al'ays talkin' 'bout de 
 gret house an' de fine kerridges dee used to have, 
 an' 'bout he marster comin' to buy him back. De 
 'ain' nuver been no gret house on dis place, not 
 sence I know nuttin 'bout it, 'sep de overseer house 
 whar dat man live. I heah Ephum say Aunt Di- 
 nah tell him de ole house whar used to be on de hill 
 whar dat gret oak-tree is in de pines bu'nt down de 
 year he wuz born, an' he ole marster had to live in 
 
144 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 de overseer house, an' hit break he heart, an' dee 
 teck all he niggers, an' dat's de way he come to 
 blongst to we all ; but dat ole man ain' know nut- 
 tin 'bout dat house, 'cause hit bu'nt down. I won- 
 der whar he did come from ? " she pursued, " an' 
 what he sho' 'nough name? He sholy couldn' been 
 named ' Ole 'Stracted,' jes so ; dat ain' no name 'tall. 
 Yit ef he ain' 'stracted, 'tain' nobody is. He ain' 
 even know he own name," she continued, presently. 
 " Say he marster '11 know him when he come ain' 
 know de folks is free ; say he marster gwi buy him 
 back in de summer an' kyar him home, an' 'bout de 
 money he gwine gi' him. Ef he got any money, I 
 wonder he live down dyah in dat evil-sperit hole." 
 And the woman glanced around with great compla- 
 cency on the picture-pasted walls of her own by no 
 means sumptuously furnished house. "Money!" 
 she repeated aloud, as she began to rake in the 
 ashes, " He ain' got nuttin. I got to kyar him 
 piece o' dis bread now," and she went off into a 
 dream of what they would do when the big crop on 
 their land should be all in, and the last payment 
 made on the house ; of what she would wear, and 
 how she would dress the children, and the appear- 
 ance she would make at meeting, not reflecting that 
 the sum they had paid on the property had never, 
 even with all their stinting, amounted in any one 
 year to more than a few dollars over the rent 
 charged for the place, and that the eight hundred 
 
Ole 'Stracted. 145 
 
 dollars yet due on it was more than they could make 
 at the present rate in a lifetime. 
 
 " Ef Ephum jes had a mule, or even somebody 
 to help him/' she thought, " but he ain' got nuttin. 
 De chil'n ain' big 'nough to do nuttin but eat ; he 
 'ain' got no brurrs, an' he deddy took 'way an' sold 
 down Souf de same time my ole marster whar dead 
 buy him ; dat's what I al'ays heah 'em say, an' I 
 know he's dead long befo' dis, 'cause I heah 'em say 
 dese Virginia niggers earn stan' hit long deah, hit 
 so hot, hit frizzle 'em up, an' I reckon he die befo' 
 he ole marster, whar I heah say die of a broked 
 heart torectly after dee teck he niggers an' sell 'em 
 befo' he face. I heah Aunt Dinah say dat, an' dat 
 he might'ly sot on he ole servants, spressaly on 
 Ephum deddy, whar named Little Ephum, an' whar 
 used to wait on him. Dis mus' 'a' been a gret place 
 dem days, 'cordin' to what dee say." She went on : 
 " Dee say he sutny live strong, wuz jes rich as 
 cream, an' weahed he blue coat an' brass buttons, 
 an' lived in dat ole house whar wuz up whar de 
 pines is now, an' whar bu'nt down, like he owned de 
 wull. An' now look at it ; dat man own it all, an' 
 cuttin' all de woods off it. He don' know nuttin 
 'bout black folks, ain' nuver been fotch up wid 'em. 
 Who ever heah he name 'fo' he come heah an' buy 
 de place, an' move in de overseer house, an' charge 
 we all eight hundred dollars for dis land, jes 'cause 
 it got little piece o' bottom on it, an' forty-eight 
 
 10 
 
146 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 dollars rent besides, wid he ole stingy wife whar 
 oon' even gi' 'way buttermilk ! " An expression of 
 mingled disgust and contempt concluded the reflec- 
 tion. 
 
 She took the ash-cake out of the ashes, slapped it 
 first on one side, then on the other, with her hand, 
 dusted it with her apron, and walked to the door 
 and poured a gourd of water from the piggin over 
 it. Then she divided it in half ; one half she set up 
 against the side of the chimney, the other she broke 
 up into smaller pieces and distributed among the 
 children, dragging the sleeping Eph, limp and 
 soaked with sleep, from the cradle to receive his 
 share. Her manner was not rough was perhaps 
 even tender but she used no caresses, as a white 
 woman would have done under the circumstances. 
 It was only toward the baby at the breast that she 
 exhibited any endearments. Her nearest approach 
 to it with the others was when she told them, as 
 she portioned out the ash-cake, " Mammy 'ain't got 
 nuttin else ; but nuver min', she gwine have plenty 
 o' good meat next year, when deddy done pay for 
 he land." 
 
 " Hi ! who dat out dyah ? " she said, suddenly. 
 " Run to de do', son, an' see who dat comin'," and 
 the whole tribe rushed to inspect the new-comer. 
 
 It was, as she suspected, her husband, and as soon 
 as he entered she saw that something was wrong. 
 He dropped into a chair, and sat in moody silence 
 
Olf 'Stracted. 147 
 
 the picture of fatigue, physical and mental. After 
 waiting for some time, she asked, indifferently, 
 " What de matter ? " 
 
 " Dat man." 
 
 " What he done do now ? " The query was sharp 
 with suspicion. 
 
 " He say he ain' gwine let me have my land." 
 
 " He's a half-strainer," said the woman, with sud- 
 den anger. " How he gwine help it ? Ain' you got 
 crap on it ? " She felt that there must be a defence 
 against such an outrage. 
 
 " He say he ain' gwine wait no longer ; dat I wuz 
 to have tell Christmas to finish payin' for it, an' I 
 ain' do it, an' now he done change he min'." 
 
 " Tell dis Christmas comin'," said his wife, with 
 the positiveness of one accustomed to expound con- 
 tracts. 
 
 " Yes ; but I tell you he say he done change he 
 min'." The man had evidently given up all hope ; 
 he was dead beat. 
 
 " De crap's yourn," said she, affected by his sur- 
 render, but prepared only to compromise. 
 
 " He say he gwine teck all dat for de rent, and dat 
 he gwine drive Ole 'Stracted 'way too. 
 
 " He ain' nuttin but po' white trash ! " It ex- 
 pressed her supreme contempt. 
 
 " He say he'll gi' me jes one week mo' to pay him 
 all he ax for it," continued he, forced to a correction 
 by her intense feeling, and the instinct of a man to 
 
148 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 defend the absent from a woman's attack, and per- 
 haps in the hope that she might suggest some 
 escape. 
 
 " He ain' nuttin sep po' white trash ! " she re- 
 peated. " How you gwine raise eight hundred dol- 
 lars at once ? Dee kyarn nobody do dat. Gord 
 mout ! He ain' got good sense." 
 
 " You ain' see dat corn lately, is you ? " he asked. 
 " Hit jes as rank ! You can almos' see it growin' ef 
 you look at it good. Dat's strong land. I know 
 dat when I buy it." 
 
 He knew it was gone now, but he had been in the 
 habit of calling it his in the past three years, and it 
 did him good to claim the ownership a little longer. 
 
 " I wonder whar Marse Johnny is ?" said the wo- 
 man. He was the son of her former owner ; and 
 now, finding her proper support failing her, she in- 
 stinctively turned to him. " He wouldn' let him 
 turn we all out." 
 
 " He ain' got nuttin, an' ef he is, he kyarn get it 
 in a week," said Ephraim. 
 
 " Kyarn you teck it in de co't ? " 
 
 " Dat's whar he say he gwine have it ef I don' git 
 out," said her husband, despairingly. 
 
 Her last defence was gone. 
 
 " Ain' you hongry ? " she inquired. 
 
 " What you got ? " 
 
 11 1 jes gwine kill a chicken for you." 
 
 It was her nearest approach to tenderness, and he 
 
Ole 'Str acted. 149 
 
 knew it was a mark of special attention, for all the 
 chickens and eggs had for the past three years gone 
 to swell the fund which was to buy the home, and 
 it was only on special occasions that one was spared 
 for food. 
 
 The news that he was to be turned out of his 
 home had fallen on him like a blow, and had stunned 
 him ; he could make no resistance, he could form 
 no plans. He went into a rough estimate as he 
 waited. 
 
 " Le' me see : I done wuck for it three years dis 
 Christmas done gone ; how much does dat meek ?" 
 
 " An' fo' dollars, an' five dollars, an' two dollars 
 an' a half last Christmas from de chickens, an' all 
 dem ducks I done sell he wife, an' de washin' I been 
 doin' for 'em ; how much is dat ? " supplemented 
 his wife. 
 
 " Dat's what I say ! " 
 
 His wife endeavored vainly to remember the 
 amount she had been told it was ; but the unac- 
 counted-for washing changed the sum and destroyed 
 her reliance on the result. And as the chicken was 
 now approaching perfection, and required her undi- 
 vided attention, she gave up the arithmetic and ap- 
 plied herself to her culinary duties. 
 
 Ephraim also abandoned the attempt, and waited 
 in a reverie, in which he saw corn stand so high and 
 rank over his land that he could scarcely distinguish 
 the balk, and a stable and barn and a mule, or may- 
 
150 /;/ Ole Virginia. 
 
 be two it was a possibility and two cows which 
 his wife would milk, and a green wagon driven by 
 his boys, while he took it easy and gave orders like 
 a master, and a clover patch, and wheat, and he saw 
 the yellow grain waving, and heard his sons sing 
 the old harvest song of " Cool Water " while they 
 swung their cradles, and 
 
 "You say he gwine turn Ole 'Stracted out, too?" 
 inquired his wife, breaking the spell. The chicken 
 was done now, and her mind reverted to the all- 
 engrossing subject. 
 
 " Yes ; say he tired o' ole 'stracted nigger livin' on 
 he place an' payin' no rent." 
 
 " Good Gord A'mighty ! Pay rent for dat ole pile 
 o* logs ! Ain't he been mendin' he shoes an' har- 
 ness for rent all dese years ? " 
 
 " 'Twill kill dat ole man to tu'n him out dat 
 house," said Ephraim ; " he ain' nuver stay away 
 from dyah a hour sence he come heah." 
 
 " Sutny 'twill," assented his wife ; then she added, 
 in reply to the rest of the remark, " Nuver min'; den 
 we'll see what he got in dyah." To a woman, that 
 was at least some compensation. Ephraim's 
 thoughts had taken a new direction. 
 
 " He al'ays feared he marster 'd come for him 
 while he 'way," he said, in mere continuance of his 
 last remark. 
 
 " He sen' me wud he marster comin' to-night, an' 
 he want he shut," said his wife, as she handed him 
 
Ole 'Str acted. 151 
 
 his supper. Ephraim's face expressed more than in- 
 terest ; it was tenderness which softened the rugged 
 lines as he sat looking into the fire. Perhaps he 
 thought of the old man's loneliness, and of his own 
 father torn away and sold so long ago, before he 
 could even remember, and perhaps very dimly of the 
 beauty of the sublime devotion of this poor old 
 creature to his love and his trust, holding steadfast 
 beyond memory, beyond reason, after the knowl- 
 edge even of his own identity and of his very name 
 was lost. 
 
 The woman caught the contagion of his sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 " De chil'n say he mighty comical, an' he layin' 
 down in de baid, ' she said. 
 
 Ephraim rose from his seat. 
 
 " Whar you gwine ? " 
 
 " I mus' go to see 'bout him," he said, simply. 
 
 " Ain' you gwine finish eatin' ? " 
 
 " I gwine kyar dis to him." 
 
 " Well, I kin cook you anurr when we come back," 
 said his wife, with ready acquiescence. 
 
 In a few minutes they were on the way, going 
 single file down the path through the sassafras, along 
 which little Eph and his followers had come an hour 
 before, the man in the lead and his wife following, 
 and, according to the custom of their race, carrying 
 the bundles, one the surrendered supper and the other 
 the neatly folded and well-patched shirt in which 
 
152 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 Ole 'Stracted hoped to meet his long-expected loved 
 ones. 
 
 As they came in sight of the ruinous little hut 
 which had been the old man's abode since his sudden 
 appearance in the neighborhood a few years after 
 the war, they observed that the bench beside the 
 door was deserted, and that the door stood ajar 
 two circumstances which neither of them remem- 
 bered ever to have seen before ; for in all the years 
 in which he had been their neighbor Ole 'Stracted 
 had never admitted any one within his door, and had 
 never been known to leave it open. In mild weather 
 he occupied a bench outside, where he either cobbled 
 shoes for his neighbors, accepting without question 
 anything they paid him, or else sat perfectly quiet, 
 with the air of a person waiting for some one. He 
 held only the briefest communication with anybody, 
 and was believed by some to have intimate relations 
 with the Evil One, and his tumble-down hut, which 
 he was particular to keep closely daubed, was 
 thought by such as took this view of the matter to 
 be the temple where he practised his unholy rites. 
 For this reason, and because the little cabin, sur- 
 rounded by dense pines and covered with vines 
 which the popular belief held " pizonous," was the 
 most desolate abode a human being could have se- 
 lected, most: of the dwellers in that section gave the 
 place a wide berth, especially toward nightfall, and 
 Ole 'Stracted would probably have suffered but for 
 
Ole 'Str acted. 153 
 
 the charity of Ephraim and his wife, who, although 
 often wanting the necessaries of life themselves, had 
 long divided it with their strange neighbor. Yet 
 even they had never been admitted inside his door, 
 and knew no more of him than the other people 
 about the settlement knew. 
 
 His advent in the neighborhood had been mys- 
 terious. The first that was known of him was one 
 summer morning, when he was found sitting on the 
 bench beside the door of this cabin, which had long 
 been unoccupied and left to decay. He was unable 
 to give any account of himself, except that he al- 
 ways declared that he had been sold by some one 
 other than his master from that plantation, that his 
 wife and boy had been sold to some other person at 
 the same time for twelve hundred dollars (he was 
 particular as to the amount), and that his master 
 was coming in the summer to buy him back and 
 take him home, and would bring him his wife and 
 child when he came. Everything since that day 
 was a blank to him, and as he could not tell the 
 name of his master or wife, or even his own name, 
 and as no one was left old enough to remember him, 
 the neighborhood having been entirely deserted after 
 the war, he simply passed as a harmless old lunatic 
 laboring under a delusion. He was devoted to chil- 
 dren, and Ephraim's small brood were his chief de- 
 light. They were not at all afraid of him, and 
 whenever they got a chance they would slip off and 
 
154 / Ole Virginia. 
 
 steal down to his house, where they might be found 
 any time squatting about his feet, listening to his 
 accounts of his expected visit from his master, and 
 what he was going to do afterward. It was all of a 
 great plantation, and fine carriages and horses, and 
 a house with his wife and the boy. 
 
 This was all that was known of him, except that 
 once a stranger, passing through the country, and 
 hearing the name Ole 'Stracted, said that he heard a 
 similar one once, long before the war, in one of the 
 Louisiana parishes, where the man roamed at will, 
 having been bought of the trader by the gentleman 
 who owned him, for a small price, on account of his 
 infirmity. 
 
 "Is you gwine in dyah?" asked the woman, as 
 they approached the hut. 
 
 " Hi ! yes ; 'tain' nuttin' gwine hu't you ; an' you 
 say Ephum say he layin' in de baid ? " he replied, 
 his mind having evidently been busy on the subject. 
 
 " An' mighty comical," she corrected him, with 
 exactness born of apprehension. 
 
 "Well? I 'feared he sick." 
 
 " I ain' nuver been in dyah," she persisted. 
 
 " Ain' de chil'n been in dyah ? " 
 
 " Dee say 'stracted folks oon hu't chil'n." 
 
 " Dat ole man oon hu't nobody ; he jes tame as 
 a ole tomcat." 
 
 " I wonder he ain' feared to live in dat lonesome 
 ole house by hisself. I jes lieve stay in a graveyard 
 
Ole 'Str acted. 155 
 
 at once. I ain' wonder folks say he sees sperrits in 
 dat hanty-lookin' place." She came up by her hus- 
 band's side at the suggestion. " I wonder he don' 
 go home? " 
 
 " Whar he got any home to go to sep heaven ? " 
 said Ephraim. 
 
 " What was you mammy name, Ephum?" 
 
 " Mymy," said he, simply. 
 
 They were at the cabin now, and a brief pause of 
 doubt ensued. It was perfectly dark inside the 
 door, and there was not a sound. The bench where 
 they had heretofore held their only communication 
 with their strange neighbor was lying on its side in 
 the weeds which grew up to the very walls of the 
 ruinous cabin, and a lizard suddenly ran over it, and 
 with a little rustle disappeared under the rotting 
 ground-sill. To the woman it was an ill omen. She 
 glanced furtively behind her, and moved nearer her 
 husband's side. She noticed that the cloud above 
 the pines was getting a faint yellow tinge on its 
 lower border, while it was very black above them. 
 It filled her with dread, and she was about to call 
 her husband's notice to it, when a voice within ar- 
 rested their attention. It was very low, and they 
 both listened in awed silence, watching the door 
 meanwhile as if they expected to see something su- 
 pernatural spring from it. 
 
 " Nem min' jes wait 'tain* so long now he'll 
 be heah torectly," said the voice. " Dat's what he 
 
156 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 say gwine come an' buy me back den we gwine 
 home." 
 
 In their endeavor to catch the words they moved 
 nearer, and made a slight noise. Suddenly the low, 
 earnest tone changed to one full of eagerness. 
 
 " Who dat ? " was called in sharp inquiry. 
 
 " Tain' nobody but me an' Polly, Ole 'Stracted," 
 said Ephraim, pushing the door slightly wider open 
 and stepping in. They had an indistinct idea that 
 the poor deluded creature had fancied them his 
 longed-for loved ones, yet it was a relief to see him 
 bodily. 
 
 " Who you say you is ? " inquired the old man, 
 feebly. 
 
 " Me an' Polly." 
 
 " I done bring you shut home," said the woman, 
 as if supplementing her husband's reply. "Hit all 
 bran' clean, an' I done patch it." 
 
 " Oh, I thought " said the voice, sadly. 
 
 They knew what he thought. Their eyes were 
 now accustomed to the darkness, and they saw that 
 the only article of furniture which the room con- 
 tained was the wretched bed or bench on which the 
 old man was stretched. The light sifting through 
 the chinks in the roof enabled them to see his face, 
 and that it had changed much in the last twenty- 
 four hours, and an instinct told them that he was 
 near the end of his long waiting. 
 " How is you, Ole 'Stracted?" asked the woman. 
 
Ole 'Stracted. 157 
 
 " Dat ain' my name," answered the old man, 
 promptly. It was the first time he had ever dis- 
 owned the name. 
 
 " Well, how is you, Ole What I gwine to call 
 you ? " asked she, with feeble finesse. 
 
 " I don' know he kin tell you." 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 "Who? Marster. He know it. Ole 'Stracted 
 ain' know it ; but dat ain' nuttin. He know it got 
 it set down in de book. I jes waitin' for 'em now." 
 
 A hush fell on the little audience they were in 
 full sympathy with him, and knowing no way of ex- 
 pressing it, kept silence. Only the breathing of the 
 old man was audible in the room. He was evidently 
 nearing the end. " I mighty tired of waitin', " he 
 said, pathetically. " Look out dyah and see ef you 
 see anybody," he added, suddenly. 
 
 Both of them obeyed, and then returned and stood 
 silent ; they could not tell him no. 
 
 Presently the woman said, " Don' you warn put 
 you' shut on ? " 
 
 " What did you say my name was ? " he said. 
 
 " Ole 'Str " She paused at the look of pain on 
 his face, shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, 
 and relapsed into embarrassed silence. 
 
 " Nem min' ! dee'll know it dee'll know me 'dout 
 any name, oon dee ? " He appealed wistfully to 
 them both. The woman for answer unfolded the 
 shirt. He moved feebly, as if in assent. 
 
158 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 " I so tired waitin'," he whispered ; " done 'mos* 
 gin out, an' he oon come ; but I thought I heah 
 little Eph to-day ? " There was a faint inquiry in his 
 voice. 
 
 " Yes, he wuz heah." 
 
 " Wuz he ? " The languid form became instantly 
 alert, the tired face took on a look of eager expect- 
 ancy. " Heah, gi' m'y shut quick. I knowed it. 
 Wait ; go over dyah, son, and git me dat money. 
 He'll be heah torectly." They thought his mind 
 wandered, and merely followed the direction of his 
 eyes with theirs. " Go over dyah quick don't you 
 heah me ? " 
 
 And to humor him Ephraim went over to the 
 corner indicated. 
 
 " Retch up dyah, an' run you' hand in onder de 
 second jice. It's all in dyah," he said to the woman 
 " twelve hunderd dollars dat's what dee went 
 for. I wucked night an' day forty year to save dat 
 money for marster ; you know dee teck all he land 
 an' all he niggers an' tu'n him out in de old fiel* ? I 
 put 'tin dyah 'ginst he come. You ain' know he 
 comin' dis evenin', is you ? Heah, help me on wid 
 dat shut, gal I stan'in' heah talkin' an' maybe ole 
 marster waitin'. Push de do' open so you kin see. 
 Forty year ago," he murmured, as Polly jambed the 
 door back and returned to his side " forty year ago 
 dee come an' levelled on me : marster sutny did cry. 
 ' Nem min',' he said, ' I comin' right down in de 
 
Ole "Sir acted. 159 
 
 summer to buy you back an' bring you home/ He's 
 comin', too nuver tol' me a lie in he life comin' 
 dis evenin'. Make 'aste." This in tremulous eager- 
 ness to the woman, who had involuntarily caught 
 the feeling, and was now with eager and ineffectual 
 haste trying to button his shirt. 
 
 An exclamation from her husband caused her to 
 turn around, as he stepped into the light and held 
 up an old sock filled with something. 
 
 " Heah, hoi' you' apron," said the old man to 
 Polly, who gathered up the lower corners of her 
 apron and stood nearer the bed. 
 
 " Po' it in dyah." This to Ephraim, who mechan- 
 ically obeyed. He pulled off the string, and poured 
 into his wife's lap the heap of glittering coin gold 
 and silver more than their eyes had ever seen before. 
 
 " Hit's all dyah," said the old man, confidentially, 
 as if he were rendering an account. " I been savin' 
 it ever sence dee took me 'way. I so busy savin' it 
 I ain' had time to eat, but I ain' hongry now ; have 
 plenty when I git home." He sank back exhausted. 
 " Oon marster be glad to see me ? " he asked, pres- 
 ently, in pathetic simplicity. " You know we growed 
 up togerr ? I been waitin' so long I 'feared dee 
 'mos' done forgit me. You reckon dee is?" he 
 asked the woman, appealingly. 
 
 " No, suh, dee ain' forgit you," she said, comfort 
 ingly. 
 
 " I know dee ain'," he said, reassured. " Dat'g 
 
160 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 what he tell me he ain' nuver gwine forgit me.'* 
 The reaction had set in, and his voice was so feeble 
 now it was scarcely audible. He was talking rather 
 to himself than to them, and finally he sank into a 
 doze. A painful silence reigned in the little hut, in 
 which the only sign was the breathing of the dying 
 man. A single shaft of light stole down under the 
 edge of the slowly passing cloud and slipped up to 
 the door. Suddenly the sleeper waked with a start, 
 and gazed around. 
 
 " Hit gittin' mighty dark," he whispered, faintly. 
 " You reckon dee'll git heah 'fo' dark ? " 
 
 The light was dying from his eyes. 
 
 " Ephum," said the woman, softly, to her hus- 
 band. 
 
 The effect was electrical. 
 
 " Heish ! you heah dat ! ' exclaimed the dying 
 man, eagerly. 
 
 " Ephum " she repeated. The rest was drowned 
 by Ole 'Stracted's joyous exclamation. 
 
 " Gord ! I knowed it ! " he cried, suddenly rising 
 upright, and, with beaming face, stretching both 
 arms toward the door. " Dyah dee come ! Now 
 watch 'em smile. All y'all jes stand back. Heah 
 de one you lookin' for. Marster Mymy heah's 
 Little Ephum ! " And with a smile on his face he 
 sank back into his son's arms. 
 
 The evening sun, dropping on the instant to his 
 setting, flooded the room with light ; but as Ephraim 
 
Ole 'Str acted. 161 
 
 gently eased him down and drew his arm from 
 around him, it was the light of the unending morn- 
 ing that was on his face. His Master had at last 
 come for him, and after his long waiting, Ole 
 'Stracted had indeed gone home, 
 ii 
 
"NO HAID PAWN." 
 
 IT was a ghostly place in broad daylight, if the 
 glimmer that stole in through the dense forest 
 that surrounded it when the sun was directly over- 
 head deserved this delusive name. At any other 
 time it was why, we were afraid even to talk about 
 it ! and as to venturing within its gloomy borders, it 
 was currently believed among us that to do so was 
 to bring upon the intruder certain death. I knew 
 every foot of ground, wet and dry, within five miles 
 of my father's house, except this plantation, for I had 
 hunted by day and night every field, forest, and marsh 
 within that radius ; but the swamp and " ma'shes " 
 that surrounded this place I had never invaded. The 
 boldest hunter on the plantation would call off his 
 dogs and go home if they struck a trail that crossed 
 the sobby boundary-line of " No Raid Pawn." 
 
 " Jack 'my lanterns " and " evil sperits " only in- 
 fested those woods, and the earnest advice of those 
 whom we children acknowledged to know most 
 about them was, " Don't you never go nigh dyah, 
 honey ; hit's de evil-speritest place in dis wull." 
 
 Had not Big William and Cephas and Poliam fol- 
 lowed their dogs in there one night, and cut down 
 
"No Haid Pawn." 163 
 
 a tree in which they had with their own eyes seen 
 the coon, and lo ! when it fell " de warn no mo' coon 
 dyah 'n a dog ! " and the next tree they had " treed 
 in " not only had no coon in it, but when it was cut 
 down it had fallen on Poliam and broken his leg. 
 So the very woods were haunted. From this time 
 they were abandoned to the " jack 'my lanterns " 
 and ghosts, and another shadow was added to No 
 Haid Pawn. 
 
 The place was as much cut off from the rest of 
 the country as if a sea had divided it. The river, 
 with marshy banks, swept around it in a wide horse- 
 shoe on three sides, and when the hammocks dammed 
 it up it washed its way straight across and scoured 
 out a new bed for itself, completely isolating the 
 whole plantation. 
 
 The owners of it, if there were any, which was 
 doubtful, were aliens, and in my time it had not 
 been occupied for forty years. The negroes de- 
 clared that it was " gin up " to the " ha'nts an' evil 
 sperits," and that no living being could live there. 
 It had grown up in forest and had wholly reverted 
 to original marsh. The road that once ran through 
 the swamp had long since been choked up, and the 
 trees were as thick and the jungle as dense now, in 
 its track, as in the adjacent "ma'sh."' Only one 
 path remained. That, it was currently believed by 
 the entire portion of the population who speculated 
 on the subject, was kept open by the evil spirits. 
 
164 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 Certain it was that no human foot ever trod the 
 narrow, tortuous line that ran through the brakes as 
 deviously as the noiseless, stagnant ditches that 
 curved through the jungle, where the musk-rats 
 played and the moccasin slept unmolested. Yet 
 there it lay, plain and well-defined, month after 
 month and year after year, as No Haid Pawn itself 
 stood, amid its surrounding swamps, all undisturbed 
 and unchanging. 
 
 Even the runaway slaves who occasionally left 
 their homes and took to the swamps and woods, 
 impelled by the cruelty of their overseers, or by a 
 desire for a vain counterfeit of freedom, never tried 
 this swamp, but preferred to be caught and returned 
 home to invading its awful shades. 
 
 We were brought up to believe in ghosts. Our 
 fathers and mothers laughed at us, and endeavored 
 to reason us out of such a superstition the fathers 
 with much of ridicule and satire, the mothers giving 
 sweet religious reasons for their argument but what 
 could they avail against the actual testimony and the 
 blood-curdling experiences of a score of witnesses, 
 who recounted their personal observations with a 
 degree of thrilling realism and a vividness that over- 
 bore any arguments our childish reason could grasp ! 
 The old mammies and uncles who were our compan- 
 ions and comrades believed in the existence of evil 
 spirits as truly as in the existence of hell or heaven, 
 as to which at that time no question had ever been 
 
" No Haid Pawn." 165 
 
 raised, so far as was known, in that slumberous 
 world. [The Bible was the standard, and all dis- 
 putes were resolved into an appeal to that authority, 
 the single question as to any point being simply, 
 " Is it in the Bible ? "] Had not Lazarus, and Mam' 
 Celia, and William, and Twis'-foot-Bob, and Aunt 
 Sukie Brown, and others seen with their own eyes 
 the evil spirits, again and again, in the bodily shape 
 of cats, headless dogs, white cows, and other less 
 palpable forms ! And was not their experience, who 
 lived in remote cabins, or wandered night after 
 night through the loneliest woods, stronger evidence 
 than the cold reasoning of those who hardly ever 
 stirred abroad except in daylight ? It certainly was 
 more conclusive to us ; for no one could have list- 
 ened to those narrators without being impressed 
 with the fact that they were recounting what they 
 had actually seen with their bodily eyes. The 
 result of it all was, so far as we were concerned, the 
 triumph of faith over reason, and the fixed belief, on 
 our part, in the actual visible existence of the de- 
 parted, in the sinister form of apparition known as 
 " evil sperits." Every graveyard was tenanted by 
 them ; every old house and every peculiarly deso- 
 late spot was known to be their rendezvous ; but 
 all spots and places sank into insignificance com- 
 pared with No Haid Pawn. 
 
 The very name was uncanny. Originally it had 
 designated a long, stagnant pool of water lying in 
 
1 66 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 the centre of the tract, which marked the spot from 
 which the soil had been dug to raise the elevation 
 on which to set the house. More modernly the 
 place, by reason of the filling up of ditches and the 
 sinking of dikes, had become again simple swamp 
 and jungle, or, to use the local expression, " had 
 turned to ma'sh," and the name applied to the whole 
 plantation. 
 
 The origin of the name ? the pond had no source ; 
 but there was a better explanation than that. Any- 
 how, the very name inspired dread, and the place 
 was our terror. 
 
 The house had been built many generations before 
 by a stranger in this section, and the owners never 
 made it their permanent home. Thus, no ties either 
 of blood or friendship were formed with their neigh- 
 bors, who were certainly open-hearted and open- 
 doored enough to overcome anything but the most 
 persistent unneighborliness. Why this spot was 
 selected for a mansion was always a mystery, unless 
 it was that the new-comer desired to isolate himself 
 completely. Instead of following the custom of 
 those who were native and to the manner born, who 
 always chose some eminence for their seats, he had 
 selected for his a spot in the middle of the wide flat 
 which lay in the horseshoe of the river. The low 
 ground, probably owing to the abundance of land in 
 that country, had never been " taken up," and up to 
 the time of his occupation was in a condition of 
 
"No Haid Pawn." 167 
 
 primeval swamp. He had to begin by making an 
 artificial mound for his mansion. Even then, it was 
 said, he dug so deep that he laid the corner-stone in 
 water. The foundation was of stone, which was 
 brought from a distance. Fabulous stories were 
 told of it. The negroes declared that under the old 
 house were solid rock chambers, which had been 
 built for dungeons, and had served for purposes 
 which were none the less awful because they were 
 vague and indefinite. The huge structure itself was 
 of wood, and was alleged to contain many mysteri- 
 ous rooms and underground passages. One of the 
 latter was said to connect with the No Haid Pawn 
 itself, whose dark waters, according to the negroes' 
 traditions, were some day, by some process not wholly 
 consistent with the laws of physics, to overwhelm 
 the fated pile. An evil destiny had seemed to over- 
 shadow the place from the very beginning. One of 
 the negro builders had been caught and decapitated 
 between two of the immense foundation stones. 
 The tradition was handed down that he was sacri- 
 ficed in some awful and occult rite connected with 
 the laying of the corner-stone. The scaffolding had 
 given way and had precipitated several men to the 
 ground, most of whom had been fatally hurt. This 
 also was alleged to be by hideous design. Then the 
 plantation, in the process of being reclaimed, had 
 proved unhealthy beyond all experience, and the 
 negroes employed in the work of diking and re- 
 
1 68 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 claiming the great swamp had sickened and died by 
 dozens. The extension of the dangerous fever to 
 the adjoining plantations had left a reputation for 
 typhus malaria from which the whole section suf- 
 fered for a time. But this did not prevent the col- 
 ored population from recounting year after year 
 the horrors of the pestilence of No Raid Pawn as a 
 peculiar visitation, nor from relating with blood- 
 curdling details the burial by scores, in a thicket just 
 beside the pond, of the stricken " befo' dee daid, 
 honey, befo' dee daid 1 '" The bodies, it was said, 
 used to float about in the guts of the swamp and on 
 the haunted pond ; and at night they might be seen, 
 if any one were so hardy as to venture there, rowing 
 about in their coffins as if they were boats. 
 
 Thus the place from the beginning had an evil 
 name, and when, year after year, the river rose and 
 washed the levees away, or the musk-rats burrowed 
 through and let the water in, and the strange mas- 
 ters cursed not only the elements but Heaven itself, 
 the continued mortality of their negroes was not 
 wholly unexpected nor unaccounted for by certain 
 classes of their neighbors. 
 
 At length the property had fallen to one more 
 gloomy, more strange, and more sinister than any 
 who had gone before him a man whose personal 
 characteristics and habits were unique in that coun- 
 try. He was of gigantic stature and superhuman 
 strength, and possessed appetites and vices in pro- 
 
" No Haid Pawn" 169 
 
 portion to his size. He could fell an ox with a 
 blow of his fist, or in a fit of anger could tear down 
 the branch of a tree, or bend a bar of iron like a 
 reed. He, either from caprice or ignorance, spoke 
 only a patois not unlike the Creole French of the 
 Louisiana parishes. But he was a West Indian. 
 His brutal temper and habits cut him off from even 
 the small measure of intercourse which had existed 
 between his predecessors and their neighbors, and 
 he lived at No Haid Pawn completely isolated. All 
 the stories and traditions of the place at once cen- 
 tred on him, and fabulous tales were told of his 
 prowess and of his life. It was said, among other 
 things, that he preserved his wonderful strength by 
 drinking human blood, a tale which in a certain 
 sense I have never seen reason to question. Mak- 
 ing all allowances, his life was a blot upon civiliza- 
 tion. At length it culminated. A brutal temper, 
 inflamed by unbridled passions, after a long period 
 of license and debauchery came to a climax in a 
 final orgy of ferocity and fury, in which he was 
 guilty of an act whose fiendishness surpassed belief, 
 and he was brought to judgment. 
 
 In modern times the very inhumanity of the 
 crime would probably have proved his security, and 
 as he had destroyed his own property while he was 
 perpetrating a crime of appalling and unparalleled 
 horror, he might have found a defence in that stand- 
 ing refuge of extraordinary scoundrelism insanity. 
 
170 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 This defence, indeed, was put in, and was pressed 
 with much ability by his counsel, one of whom was 
 my father, who had just then been admitted to the 
 bar; but, fortunately for the cause of justice, neither 
 courts nor juries were then so sentimental as they 
 have become of late years, and the last occupant of 
 No Raid Pawn paid under the law the full penalty 
 of his hideous crime. It was one of the curious in- 
 cidents of the trial that his negroes all lamented his 
 death, and declared that he was a good master when 
 he was not drunk. He was hanged just at the rear 
 of his own house, within sight of the spot where his 
 awful crime was committed. 
 
 At his execution, which, according to the custom 
 of the country, was public, a horrible coincidence 
 occurred which furnished the text of many a ser- 
 mon on retributive justice among the negroes. 
 
 The body was interred near the pond, close by 
 the thicket where the negroes were buried ; but the 
 negroes declared that it preferred one of the stone 
 chambers under the mansion, where it made its 
 home, and that it might be seen at any time of the 
 day or night stalking headless about the place. 
 They used to dwell with peculiar zest on the most 
 agonizing details of this wretch's dreadful crime, 
 the whole culminating in the final act of maniacal 
 fury, when the gigantic monster dragged the hacked 
 and headless corpse of his victim up the staircase 
 and stood it up before the open window in his hall, 
 
"No Haid Pawn" 171 
 
 in the full view of the terrified slaves. After these 
 narrations, the continued reappearance of the mur- 
 derer and his headless victim was as natural to us 
 as it was to the negroes themselves ; and, as night 
 after night we would hurry up to the great house 
 through the darkness, we were ever on the watch 
 lest he should appear to our frighted vision from 
 the shades of the shrubbery-filled yard. 
 
 Thus it was that of all ghostly places No Haid 
 Pawn had the distinction of being invested, to us, 
 with unparalleled horror ; and thus to us, no less 
 than because the dikes had given way and the 
 overflowed flats had turned again to swamp and 
 jungle, it was explicable that No Haid Pawn was 
 abandoned, and was now untrodden by any foot but 
 that of its ghostly tenants. 
 
 The time of my story was 185-. The spring pre- 
 vious continuous rains had kept the river full, and 
 had flooded the low grounds, and this had been fol- 
 lowed by an exceptionally dense growth in the sum- 
 mer. Then, public feeling was greatly excited at 
 the time of which I write, over the discovery in the 
 neighborhood of several emissaries of the under- 
 ground railway, or as they were universally con- 
 sidered in that country of the devil. They had 
 been run off or had disappeared suddenly, but had 
 left behind them some little excitement on the part 
 of the slaves, and a great deal on the part of their 
 masters, and more than the usual number of ne- 
 
172 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 groes had run away. All, however, had been 
 caught, or had returned home after a sufficient in- 
 terval of freedom, except one who had escaped per- 
 manently, and who was supposed to have accom- 
 panied his instigators on their flight. 
 
 This man was a well-known character. He be- 
 longed to one of our neighbors, and had been 
 bought and brought there from an estate on the 
 Lower Mississippi. He was the most brutal negro 
 I ever knew. He was of a type rarely found among 
 our negroes, who, judging from their physiognomy 
 and general characteristics, came principally from 
 the coast of Africa. They are of moderate stature, 
 with dull but amiable faces. This man, however, 
 was of immense size, and he possessed the features 
 and expression of a Congo desperado. In character 
 also he differed essentially from all the other slaves 
 in our country. He was alike without their amia- 
 bility and their docility, and was as fearless as he 
 was brutal. He was the only negro I ever knew 
 who was without either superstition or reverence. 
 Indeed, he differed so widely from the rest of the 
 slaves in that section that there existed some feel- 
 ing against him almost akin to a race feeling. At 
 the same time that he exercised considerable influ- 
 ence over them they were dreadfully afraid of him, 
 and were always in terror that he would trick them, 
 to which awful power he laid well-known claim. 
 His curses in his strange dialect used to terrify them 
 
" No Haid Pawn." 173 
 
 beyond measure, and they would do anything to 
 conciliate him. He had been a continual source of 
 trouble and an object of suspicion in the neighbor- 
 hood from the time of his first appearance ; and 
 more than one hog that the negroes declared had 
 wandered into the marshes of No Haid Pawn, and 
 had " cut his thote jes' swinin' aroun' an' aroun' in de 
 ma'sh," had been suspected of finding its way to this 
 man's cabin. His master had often been urged to 
 get rid of him, but he was kept, I think, probably 
 because he was valuable on the plantation. He was 
 a fine butcher, a good- work-hand, and a first-class 
 boatman. Moreover, ours was a conservative popu- 
 lation, in which every man minded his own business 
 and let his neighbor's alone. 
 
 At the time of the visits of those secret agents to 
 which I have referred, this negro was discovered to 
 be the leader in the secret meetings held under 
 their auspices, and he would doubtless have been 
 taken up and shipped off at once ; but when the in- 
 truders fled, as I have related, their convert disap- 
 peared also. It was a subject of general felicitation 
 in the neighborhood that he was gotten rid of, and 
 his master, instead of being commiserated on the 
 loss of his slave, was congratulated that he had not 
 cut his throat. 
 
 No idea can be given at this date of the excite- 
 ment occasioned in a quiet neighborhood in old 
 times by the discovery of the mere presence of such 
 
In Ok Virginia. 
 
 characters as Abolitionists. It was as if the founda- 
 tions of the whole social fabric were undermined. 
 It was the sudden darkening of a shadow that al- 
 ways hung in the horizon. The slaves were in a 
 large majority, and had they risen, though the final 
 issue could not be doubted, the lives of every white 
 on the plantations must have paid the forfeit. 
 Whatever the right and wrong of slavery might 
 have been, its existence demanded that no outside 
 interference with it should be tolerated. So much 
 was certain ; self-preservation required this. 
 
 I was, at the time of which I speak, a well-grown 
 lad, and had been for two sessions to a boarding- 
 school, where I had gotten rid of some portion I 
 will not say of all of the superstition of my boy- 
 hood. The spirit of adventure was beginning to 
 assert itself in me, and I had begun to feel a sense 
 of enjoyment in overcoming the fears which once 
 mastered me, though, I must confess, I had not 
 entirely shaken off my belief in the existence of 
 ghosts that is, I did not believe in them at all in 
 the day-time, but when night came I was not so 
 certain about it. 
 
 Duck-hunting was my favorite sport, and the 
 marshes on the river were fine ground for them 
 usually, but this season the weather had been so 
 singularly warm that the sport had been poor, and 
 though I had scoured every canal in the marsh and 
 every bend in the river as far as No Raid Pawn 
 
"No Haid Pawn" 175 
 
 Hammock, as the stretch of drifted timber and 
 treacherous marsh was called that marked the 
 boundary-line of that plantation, I had had bad 
 luck. Beyond that point I had never penetrated, 
 partly, no doubt, because of the training of my 
 earlier years, and partly because the marsh on either 
 side of the hammock would have mired a cat. 
 Often, as I watched with envious eyes the wild 
 duck rise up over the dense trees that surrounded 
 the place and cut straight for the deserted marshes 
 in the horseshoe, I had had a longing to invade the 
 mysterious domain, and crawl to the edge of No 
 Haid Pawn and get a shot at the fowl that floated 
 on its black surface ; but something had always 
 deterred me, and the long reaches of No Haid Pawn 
 were left to the wild-fowl and the ghostly rowers. 
 Finally, however, after a spell whose high tempera- 
 ture was rather suited to August than April, in 
 desperation at my ill-luck I determined to gratify 
 my curiosity and try No Haid Pawn. So one after- 
 noon, without telling any one of my intention, I 
 crossed the mysterious boundary and struck through 
 the swamp for the unknown land. 
 
 The marsh was far worse than I had anticipated, 
 and no one but a duck-hunter as experienced and 
 zealous as myself, and as indifferent to ditches, 
 briers, mire, and all that make a swamp, could have 
 penetrated it at all. Even I could never have got- 
 ten on if I had not followed the one path that led 
 
1/6 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 into the marsh, the reputed " parf " of the evil spirits, 
 and, as it was, my progress was both tedious and 
 dangerous. 
 
 The track was a mysterious one, for though I 
 knew it had not been trodden by a human foot in 
 many years, yet there, a veritable " parf," it lay. In 
 some places it was almost completely lost, and I 
 would fear I should have to turn back, but an over- 
 hanging branch or a vine swinging from one tree to 
 another would furnish a way to some spot where 
 the narrow trail began again. In other spots old 
 logs thrown across the miry canals gave me an un- 
 comfortable feeling as I reflected what feet had last 
 crossed on them. On both sides of this trail the 
 marsh was either an impenetrable jungle or a mire 
 apparently bottomless. 
 
 I shall never forget my sensations as I finally 
 emerged from the woods into the clearing, if that 
 desolate waste of willows, cane, and swamp growth 
 could be so termed. About me stretched the jungle, 
 over which a greenish lurid atmosphere brooded, 
 and straight ahead towered the gaunt mansion, a 
 rambling pile of sombre white, with numberless 
 vacant windows staring at me from the leafless trees 
 about it. Only one other clump of trees appeared 
 above the canes and brush, and that I knew by in- 
 tuition was the graveyard. 
 
 I think I should have turned back had not shame 
 impelled me forward. 
 
"No Haid Pawn" 177 
 
 My progress from this point was even more diffi- 
 cult than it had been hitherto, for the trail at the 
 end of the wood terminated abruptly in a gut of the 
 swamp ; however, I managed to keep on by walking 
 on hammocks, pushing through clumps of bushes, 
 and wading as best I could. It was slow and hot 
 work, though. 
 
 It never once struck me that it must be getting 
 late. I had become so accustomed to the gloom of 
 the woods that the more open ground appeared quite 
 light to me, and I had not paid any attention to the 
 black cloud that had been for some time gathering 
 overhead, or to the darkening atmosphere. 
 
 I suddenly became sensible that it was going to 
 rain. However, I was so much engrossed in the 
 endeavor to get on that even then I took little note 
 of it. The nearer I came to the house the more it 
 arrested my attention, and the more weird and un- 
 canny it looked. Canes and bushes grew up to the 
 very door ; the window-shutters hung from the 
 hinges ; the broken windows glared like eyeless 
 sockets ; the portico had fallen away from the wall, 
 while the wide door stood slightly ajar, giving to 
 the place a singularly ghastly appearance, somewhat 
 akin to the color which sometimes lingers on the 
 face of a corpse. In my progress wading through 
 the swamp I had gone around rather to the side of 
 the house toward where I supposed the " pawn " 
 itself to lie. 
 
 12 
 
178 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 I was now quite near to it, and striking a little 
 less miry ground, as I pushed my way through the 
 bushes and canes, which were higher than my head, 
 I became aware that I was very near the thicket 
 that marked the graveyard, just beyond which I 
 knew the pond itself lay. I was somewhat startled, 
 for the cloud made it quite dusky, and, stepping on 
 a long piece of rotten timber lying on the ground, I 
 parted the bushes to look down the pond. As I 
 did so the rattle of a chain grated on me, and, glanc- 
 ing up through the cane, before me appeared a heavy 
 upright timber with an arm or cross-beam stretching 
 from it, from which dangled a long chain, almost 
 rusted away. I knew by instinct that I stood under 
 the gallows where the murderer of No Raid Pawn 
 had expiated his dreadful crime. His corpse must 
 have fallen just where I stood. I started back ap- 
 palled. 
 
 Just then the black cloud above me was parted 
 by a vivid flame, and a peal of thunder seemed to 
 rive the earth. 
 
 I turned in terror, but before I had gone fifty 
 yards the storm was upon me, and instinctively I 
 made for the only refuge that was at hand. It was 
 a dreadful alternative, but I did not hesitate. Out- 
 side I was not even sure that my life was safe. And 
 with extraordinary swiftness I had made my way 
 through the broken iron fence that lay rusting in 
 the swamp, had traversed the yard, all grown up as 
 
" No Haid Pawn:' 179 
 
 it was to the very threshold, had ascended the 
 sunken steps, crossed the rotted portico, and en- 
 tered the open door. 
 
 A long dark hall stretched before me, extending, 
 as well as I could judge in the gloom, entirely across 
 the house. A number of doors, some shut, some 
 ajar, opened on the hall on one side ; and a broad, 
 dark stairway ascended on the other to the upper 
 story. The walls were black with mould. At the 
 far end a large bow-window, with all the glass gone, 
 looked out on the waste of swamp, unbroken save 
 by the clump of trees in the graveyard, and just 
 beside this window was a break where the dark 
 staircase descended to the apartments below. The 
 whole place was in a state of advanced decay ; al- 
 most the entire plastering had fallen with the damp, 
 and the hall presented a scene of desolation that 
 beggars description. 
 
 I was at last in the haunted house ! 
 
 The rain, driven by the wind, poured in at the 
 broken windows in such a deluge that I was forced 
 in self-defence to seek shelter in one of the rooms. 
 I tried several, but the doors were swollen or fast- 
 ened ; I found one, however, on the leeward side of 
 the house, and, pushing the door, which opened 
 easily, I entered. Inside I found something like an 
 old bed ; and the great open fireplace had evidently 
 been used at some earlier time, for the ashes were 
 still banked up in the cavernous hearth, and the 
 
l8o In Ole Virginia. 
 
 charred ends of the logs of wood were lying in the 
 chimney corners. To see, still as fresh and natural 
 as though the fire had but just died out, these rem- 
 nants of domestic life that had survived all else of a 
 similar period struck me as unspeakably ghastly. 
 The bedstead, however, though rude, was conve- 
 nient as a seat, and I utilized it accordingly, propping 
 myself up against one of the rough posts. From 
 my position I commanded through the open door 
 the entire length of the vacant hall, and could look 
 straight out of the great bow-window at the head of 
 the stairs, through which appeared, against the dull 
 sky, the black mass of the graveyard trees, and a 
 stretch of one of the canals or guts of the swamp 
 curving around it, which gleamed white in the glare 
 of the lightning. 
 
 I had expected that the storm would, like most 
 thunder-storms in the latitude, shortly exhaust itself, 
 or, as we say, " blow over ; " but I was mistaken, and 
 as the time passed, its violence, instead of diminish- 
 ing, increased. It grew darker and darker, and pres- 
 ently the startling truth dawned on me that the 
 gloom which I had supposed simply the effect of the 
 overshadowing cloud had been really nightfall. I 
 was shut up alone in No Haid Pawn for the night ! 
 
 I hastened to the door with the intention of braving 
 the storm and getting away ; but I was almost blown 
 off my feet. A glance without showed me that the 
 guts with which the swamp was traversed in every 
 
"No Haid Pawn" 181 
 
 direction were now full to the brim, and to attempt 
 to find my way home in the darkness would be sheer 
 madness ; so, after a wistful survey, I returned to 
 my wretched perch. I thought I would try and light 
 a fire, but to my consternation I had not a match, 
 and I finally abandoned myself to my fate. It was 
 a desolate, if not despairing, feeling that I experi- 
 enced. My mind was filled, not only with my own 
 unhappiness, but with the thought of the distress my 
 absence would occasion them at home ; and for a 
 little while I had a fleeting hope that a party would 
 be sent out to search for me. This, however, was 
 untenable, for they would not know where I was. 
 The last place in which they would ever think of 
 looking for me was No Haid Pawn, and even if they 
 knew I was there they could no more get to me in 
 the darkness and storm than I could escape from it. 
 
 I accordingly propped myself up on my bed 
 and gave myself up to my reflections. I said my 
 prayers very fervently. I thought I would try and 
 get to sleep, but sleep was far from my eyes. 
 
 My surroundings were too vivid to my apprehen- 
 sion. The awful traditions of the place, do what I 
 might to banish them, would come to mind. The 
 original building of the house, and its blood-stained 
 foundation stones ; the dead who had died of the 
 pestilence that had raged afterward ; the bodies 
 carted by scores and buried in the sobby earth of 
 the graveyard, whose trees loomed up through the 
 
1 82 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 broken window ; the dreadful story of the dead 
 paddling about the swamp in their coffins ; and, 
 above all, the gigantic maniac whose ferocity even 
 murder could not satiate, and who had added to 
 murder awful mutilation : he had dragged the 
 mangled corpse of his victim up those very steps 
 and flung it out of the very window which gaped 
 just beyond me in the glare of the lightning. It all 
 passed through my mind as- I sat there in the dark- 
 ness, and no effort of my will could keep my thoughts 
 from dwelling on it. The terrific thunder, outcrash- 
 ing a thousand batteries, at times engrossed my 
 attention ; but it always reverted to that scene of 
 horror ; and if I dozed, the slamming of the loose 
 blinds, or the terrific fury of the storm, would sud- 
 denly startle me. Once, as the sounds subsided for a 
 moment, or else I having become familiar with them, 
 as I was sinking into a sleepy state, a door at the 
 other end of the hall creaked and then slammed with 
 violence, bringing me bolt upright on the bed, clutch-* 
 ing my gun. I could have sworn that I heard foot- 
 steps ; but the wind was blowing a hurricane, and, 
 after another period of wakefulness and dreadful 
 recollection, nature succumbed, and I fell asleep. 
 
 I do not know that I can be said to have lost 
 consciousness even then, for my mind was still en- 
 chained by the horrors of my situation, and went on 
 clinging to them and dwelling upon them even in 
 my slumber. 
 
" No Haid Pawn." 183 
 
 I was, however, certainly asleep ; for the storm 
 must have died temporarily away about this hour 
 without my knowing it, and I subsequently heard 
 that it did. 
 
 I must have slept several hours, for I was quite 
 stiff from my constrained posture when I became 
 fully aroused. 
 
 I was awakened by a very peculiar sound ; it was 
 like a distant call or halloo. Although I had been 
 fast asleep a moment before, it startled me into a 
 state of the highest attention. In a second I was wide 
 awake. There was not a sound except the rumble 
 and roll of the thunder, as the storm once more be- 
 gan to renew itself, and in the segment of the circle 
 that I could see along the hall through my door, and, 
 indeed, out through the yawning window at the end, 
 as far as the black clump of trees in the graveyard 
 just at the bend of the canal, which I commanded 
 from my seat whenever there was a flash of lightning, 
 there was only the swaying of the bushes in the 
 swamp and of the trees in the graveyard. Yet there 
 I sat bolt upright on my bed, in the darkness, with 
 every nerve strained to its utmost tension, and that 
 unearthly cry still sounding in my ears. I was en- 
 deavoring to reason myself into the belief that I had 
 dreamed it, when a flash of lightning lit up the whole 
 field of my vision as if it had been in the focus of a 
 sun-glass, and out on the canal, where it curved 
 around the graveyard, Was a boat a something 
 
1 84 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 small, black, with square ends, and with a man in it, 
 standing upright, and something lying in a lump or 
 mass at the bow. 
 
 I knew I could not be mistaken, for the lightning, 
 by a process of its own, photographs everything on 
 the retina in minutest detail, and I had a vivid im- 
 pression of everything from the foot of the bed, on 
 which I crouched, to the gaunt arms of those black 
 trees in the graveyard just over that ghostly boat- 
 man and his dreadful freight. I was wide awake. 
 
 The story of the dead rowing in their coffins was 
 verified ! 
 
 I am unable to state what passed in the next few 
 minutes. 
 
 The storm had burst again with renewed violence 
 and was once more expending itself on the house ; 
 the thunder was again rolling overhead ; the broken 
 blinds were swinging and slamming madly ; and the 
 dreadful memories of the place were once more be- 
 setting me. 
 
 I shifted my position to relieve the cramp it had 
 occasioned, still keeping my face toward that fatal 
 window. As I did so, I heard above, or perhaps I 
 should say under, the storm a sound more terrible to 
 me the repetition of that weird halloo, this time 
 almost under the great window. Immediately suc- 
 ceeding this was the sound of something scraping 
 under the wall, and I was sensible when a door on 
 the ground-floor was struck with a heavy thud. It 
 
11 No Haid Pawn." 185 
 
 was pitch-dark, but I heard the door pushed wide 
 open, and as a string of fierce oaths, part English 
 and part Creole French, floated up the dark stair- 
 way, muffled as if sworn through clinched teeth, I 
 held my breath. I recalled the unknown tongue 
 the ghostly murderer employed ; and I knew that 
 the murderer of No Haid Pawn had left his grave, 
 and that his ghost w r as coming up that stair. I heard 
 his step as it fell on the first stair heavily yet almost 
 noiselessly. It was an unearthly sound dull, like 
 the tread of a bared foot, accompanied by the scrap- 
 ing sound of a body dragging. Step by step he 
 came up the black stairway in the pitch darkness as 
 steadily as if it were daytime, and he knew every 
 step, accompanied by that sickening sound of drag- 
 ging. There was a final pull up the last step, and a 
 dull, heavy thud, as, with a strange, wild laugh, he 
 flung his burden on the floor. 
 
 For a moment there was not a sound, and then 
 the awful silence and blackness were broken by a 
 crash of thunder that seemed to tear the foundations 
 asunder like a mighty earthquake, and the whole 
 house, and the great swamp outside, were filled with 
 a glare of vivid, blinding light. Directly in front of 
 me, clutching in his upraised hand a long, keen, glit- 
 tering knife, on whose blade a ball of fire seemed to 
 play, stood a gigantic figure in the very flame of the 
 lightning, and stretched at his feet lay, ghastly and 
 bloody, a black and headless trunk. 
 
1 86 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 I staggered to the door and, tripping, fell pros- 
 trate over the sill. 
 
 When we could get there, nothing was left but the 
 foundation. The haunted house, when struck, had 
 literally burned to the water's edge. The changed 
 current had washed its way close to the place, and in 
 strange verification of the negroes' traditions. No 
 Haid Pawn had reclaimed its own, and the spot with 
 all its secrets lay buried under its dark waters. 
 
POLLY. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS RECOLLECTION. 
 
 IT was Christmas Eve. I remember it just as if it 
 was yesterday. The Colonel had been pretend- 
 ing not to notice it, but when Drinkwater Torm * 
 knocked over both the great candlesticks, and in 
 his attempt to pick them up lurched over himself 
 and fell sprawling on the floor, he yelled at him. 
 Torm pulled himself together, and began an expla- 
 nation, in which the point was that he had not 
 " teched a drap in Gord knows how long," but the 
 Colonel cut him short. 
 
 " Get out of the room, you drunken vagabond ! " 
 he roared. 
 
 Torm was deeply offended. He made a low, 
 grand bow, and with as much dignity as his unsteady 
 condition would admit of, marched very statelily 
 from the room, and passing out through the dining- 
 room, where he stopped to abstract only one more 
 drink from the long, heavy, cut-glass decanter on the 
 sideboard, meandered out to his house in the back- 
 
 * This spelling is used because he was called "Torm" until it 
 became his name. 
 
1 88 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 yard, where he proceeded to talk religion to Charity, 
 his wife, as he always did when he was particularly 
 drunk. He was expounding the vision of the golden 
 candlestick, and the bowl and seven lamps and two 
 olive-trees, when he fell asleep. The roarer, as has 
 been said, was the Colonel ; the meanderer was 
 Drinkwater Torm. The Colonel gave him the name, 
 " because/' he said, " if he were to drink water once 
 he would die." As Drinkwater closed the door, 
 the Colonel continued, fiercely : 
 
 " Damme, Polly, I will ! I'll sell him to-morrow 
 morning; and if I can't sell him I'll give him away." 
 
 Polly, with troubled great dark eyes, was wheed- 
 ling him vigorously. 
 
 " No ; I tell you I'll sell him. * Misery in his 
 back ' the mischief ! he's a drunken, trifling, good- 
 for-nothing nigger, and I have sworn to sell him a 
 thousand yes, ten thousand times ; and now I'll 
 have to do it to keep my word." 
 
 This was true. The Colonel swore this a dozen 
 times a day every time Torm got drunk, and as 
 that had occurred very frequently for many years 
 before Polly was born, he was not outside of the 
 limit. Polly, however, was the only one this threat 
 ever troubled. The Colonel knew he could no more 
 have gotten on without Torm than his old open- 
 faced watch, which looked for all the world like a 
 model of himself, could have run without the main- 
 spring. From tying his shoes and getting his shav- 
 
Polly. 189 
 
 ing-water to making his juleps and lighting his 
 candles, which was all he had to do, Drinkwater 
 Term was necessary to him. (I think he used to 
 make the threat just to prove to himself that Torm 
 did not own him ; if so, he failed in his purpose 
 Torm did own him.) Torm knew it as well as he, 
 or better ; and while Charity, for private and wifely 
 reasons, occasionally held the threat over him when 
 his expoundings passed even her endurance, she 
 knew it also. 
 
 Thus Polly was the only one it deceived or fright- 
 ened. It always deceived her, and she never rested 
 until she had obtained Term's reprieve " for just 
 one more time." So on this occasion, before she 
 got down from the Colonel's knees, she had given 
 him in bargain " just one more squeeze," and received 
 in return Torm's conditional pardon, " only till next 
 time." 
 
 Everybody in the county knew the Colonel, and 
 everybody knew Drinkwater Torm, and everybody 
 who had been to the Colonel's for several years past 
 (and that was nearly everybody in the county, for 
 the Colonel kept open house) knew Polly. She had 
 been placed in her chair by the Colonel's side at the 
 club dinner on her first birthday after her arrival, 
 and had been afterward placed on the table and 
 allowed to crawl around among and in the dishes to 
 entertain the gentlemen, which she did to the ap- 
 plause of every one, and of herself most of all ; and 
 
190 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 from that time she had exercised in her kingdom the 
 functions of both Vashti and Esther, and whatever 
 Polly ordered was done. If the old inlaid piano in, 
 the parlor had been robbed of strings, it was all 
 right, for Polly had taken them. Bob had cut them 
 out for her, without a word of protest from any one 
 but Charity. The Colonel would have given her his 
 heart-strings if Polly had required them. 
 
 She had owned him body and soul from the second 
 he first laid eyes on her, when, on the instant he en- 
 tered the room, she had stretched out her little 
 chubby hands to him, and on his taking her had, 
 after a few infantile caresses, curled up and, with her 
 finger in her mouth, gone to sleep in his arms like a 
 little white kitten. 
 
 Bob used to wonder in a vague, boyish way where 
 the child got her beauty, for the Colonel weighed 
 two hundred and fifty pounds, and was as ugly as a 
 red head and thirty or forty years of Term's mint- 
 juleps piled on a somewhat reckless college career 
 could make him ; but one day, when the Colonel 
 was away from home, Charity showed him a daguer- 
 reotype of a lady, which she got out of the top drawer 
 of the Colonel's big secretary with the brass lions 
 on it, and it looked exactly like Polly. It had the 
 same great big dark eyes and the same soft white 
 look, though Polly was stouter ; for she was a great 
 tomboy, and used to run wild over the place with 
 Bob, climbing cherry-trees, and fishing in the creek, 
 
Polly. 191 
 
 and looking as blooming as a rose, with her hair all 
 tangled over her pretty head, until she grew quite 
 large, and the Colonel got her a tutor. He thought 
 of sending her to a boarding-school, but the night he 
 broached the subject he raised such a storm, and 
 Polly was in such a tempest of tears, that he gave 
 up the matter at once. It was well he did so ; for 
 Polly and Charity cried all night, and Torm was so 
 overcome that even next morning he could not bring 
 the Colonel his shaving-water, and he had to shave 
 with cold water for the first time in twenty years. 
 He therefore employed a tutor. Most people said 
 the child ought to have had a governess, and one or 
 two single ladies of forgotten age in the neighbor- 
 hood delicately hinted that they would gladly teach 
 her ; but the Colonel swore that he would have no 
 women around him, and he would be eternally con- 
 demned if any should interfere with Polly ; so he 
 engaged Mr. Cranmer, and invited Bob to come over 
 and go to school to him also, which he did ; for his 
 mother, who had up to that time taught him her- 
 self, was very poor, and was unable to send him to 
 school, her husband, who was the Colonel's fourth 
 cousin, having died largely indebted, and all of his 
 property, except a small farm adjoining the Colonel's, 
 and a few negroes, having gone into the General 
 Court. 
 
 Bob had always been a great favorite with the 
 Colonel, and ever since he had been a small boy he 
 
192 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 had been used to coming over and staying with 
 him. 
 
 He could gaff a chicken as well as Drinkwater 
 Torm, which was a great accomplishment in the 
 Colonel's eyes ; for he had the best game-chickens in 
 the county, and used to fight them, too, matching 
 them against those of one or two of his neighbors 
 who were similarly inclined, until Polly grew up and 
 made him stop. He could tame a colt quicker than 
 anybody on the plantation. Moreover, he could 
 shoot more partridges in a day than the Colonel, 
 and could beat him shooting with a pistol as well, 
 though the Colonel laid the fault of the former on 
 his being so fat, and that of the latter on his specta- 
 cles. They used to practice with the Colonel's old 
 pistols that hung in their holsters over the tester of 
 his bed, and about which Drinkwater used to tell so 
 many lies ; for although they were kept loaded, and 
 their brass-mounted butts peeping out of their 
 leathern covers used to look ferocious enough to 
 give some apparent ground for Term's story of how 
 "he and the Colonel had shot Judge Cabell spang 
 through the heart," the Colonel always said that 
 Cabell behaved very handsomely, and that the mat- 
 ter was arranged on the field without a shot. Even 
 at that time some people said that Bob's mother 
 was trying to catch the Colonel, and that if the 
 Colonel did not look out she would yet be the mis- 
 tress of his big plantation. And all agreed that the 
 
Polly. 193 
 
 boy would come in for something handsome at the 
 Colonel's death ; for Bob was his cousin and his 
 nearest male relative, if Polly was his niece, and he 
 would hardly leave her all his property, especially as 
 she was so much like her mother, with whom, as 
 everybody knew, the Colonel had been desperately 
 in love, but who had treated him badly, and, not- 
 withstanding his big plantation and many negroes, 
 had run away with his younger brother, and both of 
 them had died in the South of yellow fever, leaving 
 of all their children only this little Polly ; and the 
 Colonel had taken Drinkwater and Charity, and had 
 travelled in his carriage all the way to Mississippi, 
 to get and bring Polly back. It was Christmas Eve 
 when they reached home, and the Colonel had sent 
 Drinkwater on a day ahead to have the fires made 
 and the house aired for the baby ; and when the 
 carriage drove up that night you would have thought 
 a queen was coming, sure enough. 
 
 Every hand on the plantation was up at the great 
 house waiting for them, and every room in the 
 house had a fire in it. (Torm had told the overseer 
 so many lies that he had had the men cutting wood 
 all day, although the regular supply was cut.) And 
 when Charity stepped out of the carnage, with the 
 baby all bundled up in her arms, making a great 
 show about keeping it wrapped up, and walked up 
 the steps as slowly as if it were made of gold, you 
 could have heard a pin drop ; even the Colonel fell 
 13 
 
194 In Oh Virginia. 
 
 back, and spoke in a whisper. The great chamber 
 was given up to the baby, the Colonel going to the 
 wing room, where he always stayed after that. He 
 spoke of sitting up all night to watch the child, but 
 Charity assured him that she was not going to take 
 her eyes off of her during the night, and with a 
 promise to come in every hour and look after them, 
 the Colonel went to his room, where he slept until 
 nine o'clock the next morning. But I was telling 
 what people said about Bob's mother. 
 
 When the report reached the Colonel about the 
 widow's designs, he took Polly on his knees and told 
 her all about it, and then both laughed until the 
 tears ran down the Colonel's face and dropped on 
 his big flowered vest and on Polly's little blue frock ; 
 and he sent the widow next day a fine short-horned 
 heifer to show his contempt of the gossip. 
 
 And now Bob was the better shot of the two ; 
 and they taught Polly to shoot too, and to load and 
 unload the pistols, at which the Colonel was as proud 
 as if one of his young stags had whipped an old 
 rooster. 
 
 But they never could induce her to shoot at any- 
 thing except a mark. She was the tenderest-hearted 
 little thing in the world. 
 
 If her taste had been consulted she would have 
 selected a crossbow, for it did not make such a noise, 
 and she could shoot it without shutting her eyes ; 
 besides that, she could shoot it in the house, which, 
 
Polly, 195 
 
 indeed, she did, until she had shot the eyes out of 
 nearly all the bewigged gentlemen and bare-necked, 
 long-fingered ladies on the walls. Once she came 
 very near shooting Term's eye out also ; but this 
 was an accident, though Drinkwater declared it was 
 not, and tried to make out that Bob had put her up 
 to it. " Dat's de mischievouses' boy Gord ever 
 made," he said, complainingly, to Charity. Fortu- 
 nately, his eye got well, and it gave him an excuse 
 for staying half drunk for nearly a week; and after- 
 ward, like a dog that has once been lame in his hind- 
 leg, whenever he saw Polly, and did not forget it, 
 he squinted up that eye and tried to look miserable. 
 Polly was quite a large girl then, and was carrying 
 the keys (except when she lost them), though she 
 could not have been more than twelve years old ; for 
 it was just after this that the birthday came when the 
 Colonel gave her her first real silk dress. It was blue 
 silk, and came from Richmond, and it was hard to 
 tell which was the proudest, Polly, or Charity, or 
 Drinkwater, or the Colonel. Torm got drunk before 
 the dinner was over, " drinking de healthsh to de 
 young mistis in de sky-blue robes what stands befo' 
 de throne, you know," he explained to Charity, after 
 the Colonel had ordered him from the dining-room, 
 with promises of prompt sale on the morrow. 
 
 Bob was there, and it was the last time Polly ever 
 sucked her thumb. She had almost gotten out of 
 the habit anyhow, and it was in a moment of forget- 
 
196 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 fulness that she let Bob see her do it. He was a 
 great tease, and when she was smaller had often 
 worried her about it until she would fly at him and 
 try to bite him with her little white teeth. On this 
 occasion, however, she stood everything until he 
 said that about a girl who wore a blue silk dress 
 sucking her thumb ; then she boxed his jaws. The 
 fire flew from his eyes, but hers were even more 
 sparkling. He paused for a minute, and then caught 
 her in his arms and kissed her violently. She never 
 sucked her thumb after that. 
 
 This happened out in front of her mammy's 
 house, within which Torm was delivering a powerful 
 exhortation on temperance ; and, strange to say, 
 Charity took Bob's side, while Torm espoused 
 Polly's, and afterward said she ought to have 
 " tooken a stick and knocked Marse Bob's head 
 spang off." This, fortunately, Polly did not do (and 
 when Bob went to the university afterward he was 
 said to have the best head in his class). She just 
 turned around and ran into the house, with her face 
 very red. But she never slapped Bob after that. 
 Not long after this he went off to college ; for Mr. 
 Cranmer, the tutor, said he already knew more than 
 most college graduates did, and that it would be a 
 shame for him not to have a university education. 
 When the question of ways and means was mooted, 
 the Colonel, who was always ready to lend money 
 if he had it, and to borrow it if he did not, swore he 
 
Polly. 197- 
 
 would give him all the money he wanted ; but, to 
 his astonishment, Bob refused to accept it, and 
 although the Colonel abused him for it, and asked 
 Polly if she did not think he was a fool (which Polly 
 did, for she was always ready to take and spend all 
 the money he or any one else gave her), yet he did 
 not like him the less for it, and he finally persuaded 
 Bob to take it as a loan, and Bob gave him his bond. 
 
 The day before he left home he was over at the 
 Colonel's, where they had a great dinner for him, 
 and Polly presided in her newest silk dress (she had 
 three then) ; and when Bob said good-by she slipped 
 something into his hand, and ran away to her room, 
 and when he looked at it, it was her ten-dollar gold 
 piece, and he took it. 
 
 He was at college not quite three years, for his 
 mother was taken sick, and he had to come home 
 and nurse her ; but he had stood first in most of his 
 classes, and not lower than third in any ; and he had 
 thrashed the carpenter on Vinegar Hill, who was 
 the bully of the town. So that although he did not 
 take his degree, he had gotten the start which en- 
 abled him to complete his studies during the time 
 he was taking care of his mother, and until her 
 death, so that as soon as he was admitted to the bar 
 he made his mark. It was his splendid defence of 
 the man who shot the deputy-sheriff at the court- 
 house on election day that brought him out as the 
 Democratic candidate for the Constitutional Con- 
 
198 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 vention, where he made such a reputation as a 
 speaker that the Enquirer declared him the rising 
 man of the State ; and even the Whig admitted that 
 perhaps the Loco-foco party might find a leader to 
 redeem it. Polly was just fifteen when she began 
 to take an interest in politics ; and although she 
 read the papers diligently, especially the Enquirer, 
 which her uncle never failed to abuse, yet she never 
 could exactly satisfy herself which side was right ; 
 for the Colonel was a stanch Whig, while most peo- 
 ple must have been Democrats, as Bob was elected 
 by a big majority. She wanted to be on the Col- 
 onel's side, and made him explain everything to 
 her, which he did to his own entire satisfaction, and 
 to hers too, she tried to think; but when Bob came 
 over to tea, which he very frequently did, and the 
 Colonel and he got into a discussion, her uncle 
 always seemed to her to get the worst of the argu- 
 ment ; at any rate, he generally got very hot. This, 
 however, might have been because Bob was so cool, 
 while the Colonel was so hot-tempered. 
 
 Bob had grown up very handsome. His mouth 
 was strong and firm, and his eyes were splendid. 
 He was about six feet, and his shoulders were as 
 broad as the Colonel's. She did not see him now 
 as often as she did when he was a boy, but it was 
 because he was kept so busy by his practice. (He 
 used to get cases in three or four counties now, and 
 big ones at that.) She knew, however, that she was 
 
Polly. 199 
 
 just as good a friend of his as ever ; indeed, she 
 took the trouble to tell herself so. A compliment 
 to him used to give her the greatest happiness, and 
 would bring deeper roses into her cheeks. He was 
 the greatest favorite with everybody. Torm thought 
 that there was no one in the world like him. He 
 had long ago forgiven him his many pranks, and 
 said " he was the grettest gent'man in the county 
 skusin him [Torm] and the Colonel," and that " he 
 al'ays handled heself to he raisin','' by which Torm 
 made indirect reference to regular donations made 
 to him by the aforesaid u gent'man," and particu- 
 larly to an especially large benefaction then lately 
 conferred. It happened one evening at the Col- 
 onel's, after dinner, when several guests, including 
 Bob, were commenting on the perfections of various 
 ladies who were visiting in the neighborhood that 
 summer. The praises were, to Torm's mind, some- 
 what too liberally bestowed, and he had attempted 
 to console himself by several visits to the pantry ; 
 but when all the list was disposed of, and Polly's 
 name had not been mentioned, endurance could 
 stand it no longer, and he suddenly broke in with 
 his judgment that they " didn't none on 'em hoi' a 
 candle to his young mistis, whar wuz de ve'y pink 
 an' flow'r on 'em all." 
 
 The Colonel, immensely pleased, ordered him out, 
 with a promise of immediate sale on the morrow. 
 But that evening, as he got on his horse, Bob 
 
2OO In Ole Virginia. 
 
 slipped into his hand a five-dollar gold piece, and he 
 told Polly that if the Colonel really intended to sell 
 Torm, just to send him over to his house ; he wanted 
 the benefit of his judgment. 
 
 Polly, of course, did not understand his allusion, 
 though the Colonel had told her of Torm's speech ; 
 but Bob had a rose on his coat when he came out of 
 the window, and the long pin in Polly's bodice was 
 not fastened very securely, for it slipped, and she 
 lost all her other roses, and he had to stoop and 
 pick them up for her. Perhaps, though, Bob was 
 simply referring to his having saved some money, 
 for shortly afterward he came over one morning, 
 and, to the Colonel's disgust, paid him down in full 
 the amount of his bond. He attempted a some- 
 what formal speech of thanks, but broke down in it 
 so lamentably that two juleps were ordered out by 
 the Colonel to reinstate easy relations between 
 them an effect which apparently was not immedi- 
 ately produced and the Colonel confided to Polly 
 next day that since the fellow had been taken up 
 so by those Loco-focos he was not altogether as he 
 used to be. 
 
 " Why, he don't even drink his juleps clear," the 
 old man asserted, as if he were charging him with, 
 at the least, misprision of treason. " However," he 
 added, softening as the excuse presented itself to 
 his mind, " that may be because his mother was 
 always so opposed to it. You know mint never 
 
Polly. 201 
 
 would grow there," he pursued to Polly, who had 
 heard him make the same observation, with the 
 same astonishment, a hundred times. " Strangest 
 thing I ever knew. But he's a confoundedly clever 
 fellow, though, Polly," he continued, with a sudden 
 reviving of the old-time affection. " Damme ! I like 
 him." And, as Polly's face turned a sweet carmine, 
 added : " Oh, I forgot, Polly ; didn't mean to swear; 
 damme if I did. It just slipped out. Now I haven't 
 sworn before for a week ; you know I haven't. Yes, 
 of course, I mean except then." For Polly, with 
 softly fading color, was reading him the severest of 
 lectures on his besetting sin, and citing an ebullition 
 over Term's failing of the day before. " Come and 
 sit down on your uncle's knee and kiss him once as 
 a token of forgiveness. Just one more squeeze," as 
 the fair girlish arms were twined about his neck, and 
 the sweetest of faces was pressed against his own 
 rough cheek. " Polly, do you remember," asked the 
 old man, holding her off from him and gazing at the 
 girlish face fondly " do you remember how, when 
 you were a little scrap, you used to climb up on my 
 knee and squeeze me just once more to save that 
 rascal. Drinkwater, and how you used to say you 
 were going to marry Bob and me when you were 
 grown up ? " 
 
 Polly's memory, apparently, was not very good. 
 That evening, however, it seemed much better, 
 when, dressed all in soft white, and with cheeks 
 
2O2 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 reflecting the faint tints of the sunset clouds, she 
 was strolling through the old flower-garden with a 
 tall young fellow whose hat sat on his head with a 
 jaunty air, and who was so very careful to hold aside 
 the long branches of the rose-bushes. They had 
 somehow gotten to recalling each in turn some in- 
 cident of the old boy and girl days. Bob knew the 
 main facts as well as she, but Polly remembered the 
 little details and circumstances of each incident 
 best, except those about the time they were playing 
 " knucks " together. Then Bob recollected most. 
 He was positive that when she cried because he 
 shot so hard, he had kissed her to make it well. 
 Curiously, Polly's recollection failed again, and was 
 only distinct about very modern matters. She re- 
 membered with remarkable suddenness that it was 
 tea-time. 
 
 They were away down at the end of the garden, 
 and her lapse of memory had a singular effect on 
 Bob ; for he turned quite pale, and insisted that she 
 did remember it ; and then said something about 
 having wanted to see the Colonel, and having waited, 
 and did so strangely that if that rose-bush had not 
 caught her dress, he might have done something 
 else. But the rose-bush caught her dress, and Polly, 
 who looked really scared at it, or something, ran 
 away just as the Colonel's voice was heard calling 
 them to tea. 
 
 Bob was very silent at the table, and when he left, 
 
Polly. 203 
 
 the Colonel was quite anxious about him. He 
 asked Polly if she had not noticed his depression. 
 Polly had not. 
 
 " That's just the way with you women," said the 
 Colonel, testily. "A man might die under your 
 very eyes, and you would not notice it. I noticed 
 it, and I tell you the fellow's sick. I say he's sick ! " 
 he reiterated, with a little habit he had acquired 
 since he had begun to grow slightly deaf. u I shall 
 advise him to go away and have a little fling some- 
 where. He works too hard, sticks too close at 
 home. He never goes anywhere except here, and 
 he don't come here as he used to do. He ought to 
 get married. Advise him to get married. Why 
 don't he set up to Sally Brent or Malviny Pegram ? 
 He's a likely fellow, and they'd both take him fools 
 if they didn't. I say they are fools if they didn't. 
 What say?" * 
 
 " I didn't say anything," said Polly, quietly going 
 to the piano. 
 
 Her music often soothed the Colonel to sleep. 
 
 The next morning but one Bob rode over, and in- 
 stead of hooking his horse to the fence as he usually 
 did, he rode on around toward the stables. He 
 greeted Torm, who was in the backyard, and after 
 extracting some preliminary observations from him 
 respecting the " misery in his back," he elicited the 
 further facts that Miss Polly was going down the 
 road to dine at the Pegrams', of which he had some 
 
2O4 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 intimation before, and that the Colonel was down 
 on the river farm, but would be back about two 
 o'clock. He rode on. At two o'clock promptly 
 Bob returned. The Colonel had not yet gotten 
 home. He, however, dismounted, and, tying his 
 horse, went in. He must have been tired of sitting 
 down, for he now walked up and down the portico 
 without once taking a seat. 
 
 " Marse Bob '11 walk heself to death," observed 
 Charity to Torm, from her door. 
 
 Presently the Colonel came in, bluff, warm, and 
 hearty. He ordered dinner from the front gate as 
 he dismounted, and juleps from the middle of the 
 walk, greeted Bob with a cheeriness which that gen- 
 tleman in vain tried to imitate, and was plumped 
 down in his great split-bottomed chair, wiping his 
 red head with his still redder bandana handkerchief, 
 and abusing the weather, the crops, the newspapers, 
 and his overseer before Bob could get breath to 
 make a single remark. When he did, he pitched in 
 on the weather. That is a safe topic at all times, 
 and it was astonishing how much comfort Bob got 
 out of it this afternoon. He talked about it until 
 dinner began to come in across the yard, the blue 
 china dishes gleaming in the hands of Phcebe and 
 her numerous corps of ebon and mahogany assis- 
 tants, and Torm brought out the juleps, with the 
 mint looking as if it were growing in the great silver 
 cans, with frosted work all over the sides. 
 
Polly. 205 
 
 Dinner was rather a failure, so far as Bob was 
 concerned. Perhaps he missed something that 
 usually graced that table ; perhaps only his body 
 was there, while he himself was down at Miss Mal- 
 viny Pegram's ; perhaps he had gone back and was 
 unfastening an impertinent rose-bush from a filmy 
 white dress in the summer twilight ; perhaps But 
 anyhow he was so silent and abstracted that the 
 Colonel rallied him good-humoredly, which did not 
 help matters. They had adjourned to the porch, 
 and had been there for some time, when Bob 
 broached the subject of his visit. 
 
 " Colonel," he said, suddenly, and wholly irrelevant 
 to everything that had gone before, " there is a 
 matter I want to speak to you about a ah we 
 a little matter of great importance to ah myself." 
 He was getting very red and confused, and the 
 Colonel instantly divining the matter, and secretly 
 flattering himself, and determining to crow over 
 Polly, said, to help him out : 
 
 " Aha, you rogue, I knew it. Come up to the 
 scratch, sir. So you are caught at last. Ah, you 
 sly fox ! It's the very thing you ought to do. Why, 
 I know half a dozen girls who'd jump at you. I 
 knew it. I said so the other night. Polly- 
 Bob was utterly off his feet by this time. " I 
 want to ask your consent to marry Polly," he blurted 
 out desperately. " I love her." 
 
 u The devil you do ! " exclaimed the Colonel. He 
 
2o6 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 could say no more ; he simply sat still, in speechless, 
 helpless, blank amazement. To him Polly was still 
 a little girl climbing his knees, and an emperor might 
 not aspire to her. 
 
 " Yes, sir, I do," said Bob, calm enough now 
 growing cool as the Colonel became excited. " I 
 love her, and I want her." 
 
 " Well, sir, you can't have her," roared the Colonel, 
 rising from his seat in the violence of his refusal. 
 He looked like a tawny lion whose lair had been in- 
 vaded. 
 
 Bob's face paled, and a look came on it that the 
 Colonel recalled afterward, and which he did not re- 
 member ever to have seen on it before, except once, 
 when, years ago, some one shot one of his dogs 
 a look made up of anger and of dogged resolution. 
 " I shall," he said, throwing up his head and looking 
 the Colonel straight in the eyes, his voice perfectly 
 calm, but his eyes blazing, the mouth drawn close, 
 and the lines of his face as if they had been carved 
 in granite. 
 
 " I'll be if you shall ! " stormed the Colonel ; 
 
 "the King of England should not have her!" and, 
 turning, he stamped into the house and slammed the 
 door behind him. 
 
 Bob walked slowly down the steps and around 
 to the stables, where he ordered his horse. He 
 rode home across the fields without a word, except, 
 as he jumped his horse over the line fence, " I 
 
Polly. 207 
 
 shall have her," he repeated, between his fast-set 
 teeth. 
 
 That evening Polly came home all unsuspecting 
 anything of the kind ; the Colonel waited until she 
 had taken off her things and come down in her fresh 
 muslin dress. She surpassed in loveliness the rose- 
 buds that lay on her bosom, and the impertinence 
 that could dare aspire to her broke over the old man 
 in a fresh wave. He had nursed his wrath all the 
 evening. 
 
 " Polly ! " he blurted out, suddenly rising with a 
 jerk from his arm-chair, and unconsciously striking 
 an attitude before the astonished girl, " do you want 
 to marry Bob ? " 
 
 " Why, no," cried Polly, utterly shaken out of her 
 composure by the suddenness and vehemence of the 
 attack. 
 
 "I knew it," declared the Colonel, triumphantly. 
 "It was a piece of cursed impertinence;" and he 
 worked himself up to such a pitch of fury, and grew 
 so red in the face, that poor little Polly, who had to 
 steer between two dangers, had to employ all her 
 arts to soothe the old man and keep him out of a fit 
 of apoplexy. She learned the truth, however, and 
 she learned something which, until that time, she had 
 never known ; and though, as she kissed her uncle 
 " good-night," she made no answer to his final shot 
 of, " Well, I'm glad we are not going to have any 
 nonsense about the fellow ; I have made up my 
 
208 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 mind, and we'll treat his impudence as it deserves," 
 she locked her door carefully when she was within 
 her own room, and the next morning she said she 
 had a headache. 
 
 Bob did not come that day. If the Colonel had 
 not been so hot-headed that is, if he had not 
 been a man things would doubtless have straight- 
 ened themselves out in some of those mysterious 
 ways in which the hardest knots into which two 
 young people's affairs contrive to get untangle 
 themselves ; but being a man, he must needs, man- 
 like, undertake to manage according to his own plan, 
 which is always the wrong one. 
 
 When, therefore, he announced to Polly at the 
 breakfast-table that morning that she would have no 
 further annoyance from that fellow's impertinence 
 for he had written him a note apologizing for leav- 
 ing him abruptly in his own house the day before, 
 but forbidding him, in both their names, to continue 
 his addresses, or indeed to put his foot on the place 
 again he fully expected to see Polly's face brighten, 
 and to receive her approbation and thanks. What, 
 then, was his disappointment to see her face grow 
 distinctly white. All she said was, " Oh, uncle ! " 
 
 It was unfortunate that the day was Sunday, and 
 that the Colonel went with her to church (which she 
 insisted on attending notwithstanding her headache), 
 and was by when she met Bob. They came on each 
 other suddenly. Bob took off his hat and stood like 
 
Polly. 209 
 
 a soldier on review, erect, expectant, and a little 
 pale. The Colonel, who had almost forgotten his 
 " impertinence," and was about to shake hands with 
 him as usual, suddenly remembered it, and drawing 
 himself up, stepped to the other side of Polly, and 
 handed her by the younger gentleman as if he were 
 protecting her from a mob. Polly, who had been 
 looking anxiously everywhere but in the right place, 
 meaning to give him a smile which would set things 
 straight, caught his eye only at that second, and felt 
 rather than saw the change in Bob's attitude and 
 manner. She tried to give him the smile, but it 
 died in her eyes, and even after her back was turned 
 she was sensible of his defiance ; and she went into 
 church, and dropped down on her knees in the far 
 end of her pew, with her little heart needing all the 
 consolations of her religion. 
 
 The man she prayed hardest for did not come 
 into church that day. Things went very badly after 
 that, and the knots got tighter and tighter. An at- 
 tempt which Bob made to loosen them failed disas- 
 trously, and the Colonel, who was the best-hearted 
 man in the world, but whose prejudices were made 
 of wrought iron, took it into his head that Bob had 
 insulted him, and Polly's indirect efforts at pacifica- 
 tion aroused him to such an extent that for the first 
 time in his life he was almost hard with her. He 
 conceived the absurd idea that she was sacrificing 
 herself for Bob on account of her friendship for him, 
 14 
 
2IO In Ole Virginia. 
 
 and that it was his duty to protect her against her- 
 self, which, man-like, he proceeded to do in his own 
 fashion, to poor little Polly's great distress. 
 
 She was devoted to her uncle, and knew the 
 strength of his affection for her. On the other hand, 
 Bob and she had been friends so long. She never 
 could remember the time when she did not have 
 Bob. But he had never said a word of love to her 
 in his life. 
 
 On that evening in the garden she had known it 
 just as well as if he had fallen on his knees at her 
 feet. She knew it was just because he had owed her 
 uncle the money ; and oh ! if she just hadn't gotten 
 frightened ; and oh ! if her uncle just hadn't done 
 it ; and oh ! she was so unhappj 7 " ! The poor little 
 thing, in her own dainty, white-curtained room, 
 where were the books and things he had given her, 
 and the letters he had written her, used to but that 
 is a secret. Anyhow, it was not because he was gone. 
 She knew that was not the reason indeed, she very 
 often said to herself but because he had been 
 treated so unjustly, and suffered so, and she had 
 done it all. And she used to introduce many new 
 petitions into her prayers, in which, if there was not 
 any name expressed, she felt that it would be under- 
 stood, and the blessings would reach him just the 
 same. The summer had gone, and the Indian sum- 
 mer had come in its place, hazy, dreamy, and sad. 
 It always made her melancholy, and this year, 
 
Polly. 211 
 
 although the weather was perfect, she was affected, 
 she said, by the heat, and did not go out of doors 
 much. So presently her cheeks were not as bloom- 
 ing as they had been, and even her great eyes lost 
 some of their lustre; at least, Charity thought so, 
 and said so too, not only to Polly, but to her master, 
 whom she scared half to death ; and who, notwith- 
 standing that Dr. Stopper was coming every other 
 day to see a patient on the plantation, and that the 
 next day was the time for his regular visit, put a boy 
 on a horse that night and sent him with a note urg- 
 ing the doctor to come the next morning to break- 
 fast. The doctor came, and spent the day : ex- 
 amined Polly's lungs and heart, prescribed out-door 
 exercise, and left something less than a bushel- 
 basketful of medicines for her to take. 
 
 Polly was, at the time of his visit, in a very excited 
 state, for the Colonel had, with a view of soothing 
 her, the night before delivered a violent philippic 
 against marriage in general, and in particular against 
 marriage with " impudent young puppies who did 
 not know their places; " and he had proposed an ex- 
 tensive tour, embracing all the United States and 
 Canada, and intended to cover the entire winter and 
 spring following. Polly, who had stood as much as 
 she could stand, finally rebelled, and had with flash- 
 ing eyes and mantling cheeks espoused Bob's cause 
 with a courage and dash which had almost routed 
 the old Colonel. " Not that he was anything to her 
 
212 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 except a friend," she was most careful to explain, 
 but she was tired of hearing her " friend " assailed, 
 and she thought that it was the highest compliment a 
 man could pay a woman, etc., etc., for all of which 
 she did a great deal of blushing in her own room 
 afterward. 
 
 Thus it happened that she was both excited and 
 penitent the next day, and thinking to make some 
 atonement, and at the same time to make the pre- 
 scribed exercise, which would excuse her from tak- 
 ing the medicines, she filled a little basket with 
 goodies to take old Aunt Betty at the Far Quarters; 
 and thus it happened that, as she was coming back 
 along the path that ran down the meadow on the 
 other side of the creek, which was the dividing line 
 between the two plantations, and was almost at the 
 foot-bridge that Somebody had made for her so care- 
 fully with logs cut out of his own woods, and the 
 long shadows of the willows made it gloomy, and 
 everything was so still that she had grown very 
 lonely and unhappy thus it happened that just as 
 she was thinking how kind he had been about mak- 
 ing the bridge and hand-rail so strong, and about 
 everything, and how cruel he must think her, and 
 how she would never see him any more as she used 
 to do, she turned the clump of willows to step up on 
 the log, and there he was standing on the bridge 
 just before her, looking down into her eyes. She 
 tried to get by him she remembered that after- 
 
Polly. 2 1 3 
 
 ward but he was so mean ; it was always a little 
 confused in her memory, and she could never recall 
 exactly how it was. She was sure, however, that it 
 was because he was so pale that she said it, and that 
 she did not begin to cry until afterward, and that it 
 was because he would not listen to her explanation ; 
 and that she didn't let him do it, she could not help 
 it, and she did not know her head was on his shoulder. 
 
 Anyhow, when she got home that evening her 
 improvement was so apparent that the Colonel called 
 Charity in to note it, and declared that Virginia 
 country doctors were the finest in the world, and 
 that Stopper was the greatest doctor in the State. 
 The change was wonderful indeed ; and the old gilt 
 mirror with its gauze-covered frame would never 
 have known for the sad-eyed Polly of the day before 
 the bright, happy little maiden that stood before it 
 now and smiled at the beaming face which dimpled 
 at its own content. Old Betty's was a protracted 
 pleurisy, and the good things Polly carried her daily 
 did not tend to shorten the sickness. Ever after- 
 ward she blessed the Lord for " dat chile " when- 
 ever Polly's name was mentioned. Had she known 
 how sympathetic Bob was during this period, she 
 would doubtless have included him in her benison. 
 
 But although he was inspecting that bridge every 
 afternoon regularly, notwithstanding Polly's oft-re- 
 iterated wish and express orders as regularly de- 
 clared, no one knew a word of all this. And it was 
 
214 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 a bow drawn at a venture when, on the evening that 
 Polly had tried to carry out her engagement to bring 
 her uncle around, the old man said, " Why, hoity- 
 toity ! the young rascal's cause seems to be thriv- 
 ing." She was so confident of her success that she 
 was not prepared for failure, and it struck her like a 
 fresh blow ; and though she did not cry until she 
 got into her own room, when she got there she 
 threw herself on the bed and cried herself to sleep. 
 " It was so cruel in him," she said to herself, " to 
 desire me never to speak to him again ! And, oh ! if 
 he should really catch him on the place and shoot 
 him ! " 
 
 The pronouns in our language were probably in- 
 vented by young women. The headache Polly had 
 the next morning was not invented. Poor little 
 thing ! her last hope was gone. She determined to 
 bid Bob good-by, and never see him again. 
 
 She had made up her mind to this on her knees, 
 so she knew she was right. The pain it cost her 
 satisfied her that it was right. She was firmly re- 
 solved when she set out that afternoon to see old 
 Betty, who was, in everybody's judgment except 
 her own, quite convalescent, and whom Dr. Stopper 
 pronounced entirely well. She wavered a little in 
 her resolution when, descending the path along the 
 willows, which were leafless now, she caught sight of 
 a tall figure loitering easily up the meadow, and she 
 abandoned that is, she forgot it altogether when, 
 
Polly. 215 
 
 having doubtfully suggested it, she was suddenly 
 enfolded in a pair of strong arms, and two gray eyes, 
 lighting a handsome face strong with the self-confi- 
 dence v/hich women love, looked down into hers. 
 Then he proposed it ! 
 
 Her heart almost stood still at his boldness. But 
 he was so strong, so firm, so reasonable, so self-re- 
 liant, and yet so gentle, she could not but listen to 
 him. Still she refused and she never did consent ; 
 she forbade him ever to think of it again. Then she 
 begged him never to come there again, and told him 
 of her uncle's threats, and of her fears for him ; and 
 then, when he laughed at them, she begged him 
 never, never, under any circumstances, to take any 
 notice of what her uncle might do or say, but rather 
 to stand still and be shot dead ; and then, when 
 Bob promised this, she burst into tears, and he had 
 to hold her and comfort her like a little girl. 
 
 It was pretty bad after that, and but for Polly's 
 out-door exercise she would undoubtedly have suc- 
 cumbed. It seemed as if something had come be- 
 tween her and her uncle. She no longer went about 
 singing like a bird. She suffered under the sense of 
 being misunderstood, and it was so lonely ! He too 
 was oppressed by it. Even Torm shared in it, and 
 his expositions assumed a cast terrific in the last 
 degree. It was now December. 
 
 One evening it culminated. The weather had 
 been too bad for Polly to go out, and she was sick. 
 
216 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 Finally Stopper was sent for. Polly, who, to use 
 Charity's expression, was " pestered till she was frac- 
 tious," rebelled flatly, and refused to keep her bed 
 or to take the medicines prescribed. Chanty backed 
 her. Torm got drunk. The Colonel was in a fume, 
 and declared his intention to sell Torm next morn- 
 ing, as usual, and to take Charity and Polly and go 
 to Europe. This was well enough ; but to Polly's 
 consternation, when she came to breakfast next 
 morning, she found that the old man's plans had 
 ripened into a scheme to set out on the very next 
 day for Louisiana and New Orleans, where he pro- 
 posed to spend the winter looking after some plan- 
 tations she had, and showing her something of the 
 world. Polly remonstrated, rebelled, cajoled. It 
 was all in vain. Stopper had seriously frightened 
 the old man about her health, and he was adamant. 
 Preparations were set on foot ; the brown hair 
 trunks, with their lines of staring brass tacks, were 
 raked out and dusted ; the Colonel got into a fever, 
 ordered up all the negroes in the yard, and gave in- 
 structions from the front door, like a major-general 
 reviewing his troops; got Torm, Charity, and all the 
 others into a wild flutter; attempted to superintend 
 Polly's matters ; made her promises of fabulous 
 gifts; became reminiscent, and told marvellous 
 stories of his old days, which Torm corroborated ; 
 and so excited Polly and the plantation generally 
 that from old Betty, who came from the Far Quarters 
 
Polly. f 217 
 
 for .the purpose of taking it in, down to the blackest 
 little dot on the place, there was not one who did not 
 get into a wild whirl, and talk as if they were all going 
 to New Orleans the next morning, with Joe Rattler 
 on the boot. Polly had, after a stout resistance, 
 surrendered to her fate, and packed her modest 
 trunk with very mingled feelings. Under other cir- 
 cumstances she would have enjoyed the trip im- 
 mensely ; but she felt now as if it were parting from 
 Bob forever. Her heart was in her throat all day, 
 and even the excitement of packing could not drive 
 away the feeling. She 'knew she would never see 
 him again. She tried to work out what the end 
 would be. Would he die, or would he marry Mal- 
 viny Pegram ? Every one said she would just suit 
 him, and she'd certainly marry him if he asked her. 
 The sun was shining over the western woods. Bob 
 rode down that way in the afternoon, even when it 
 was raining; he had told her so. He would think 
 it cruel of her to go away so, and never even let him 
 know. She would at least go and tell him good-by. 
 So she did. 
 
 Bob's face paled suddenly when she told him all, 
 and that look which she had not seen often before 
 settled on it. Then he took her hand and began to 
 explain everything to her. He told her that he had 
 loved her all her life ; showed her how she had in- 
 spired him to work for and win every success that 
 he had achieved ; how it had been her work even 
 
218 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 more than his. Then he laid before her the life 
 plans he had formed, and proved how they were all 
 for her, and for her only. He made it all so clear, 
 and his voice was so confident, and his face so earn- 
 est, as he pleaded and proved it step by step, that 
 she felt, as she leaned against him and he clasped 
 her closely, that he was right, and that she could not 
 part from him. 
 
 That evening Polly was unusually silent ; but the 
 Colonel thought she had never been so sweet. She 
 petted him until he swore that no man on earth was 
 worthy of her, and that no'ne should ever have her. 
 After tea she went to his room to look over his 
 clothes (her especial work), and would let no one, 
 not even her mammy, help her; and when the Col- 
 onel insisted on coming in to tell her some more 
 concerning the glories of New Orleans in his day, 
 she finally put him out and locked the door on him. 
 She was very strange all the evening. As they were 
 to start the next morning, the Colonel was for retir- 
 ing early; but Polly would not go; she loitered 
 around, hung about the old fellow, petted him, sat 
 on his knee and kissed him, until he was forced to 
 insist on her going to bed. Then she said good- 
 night, and astonished the Colonel by throwing her- 
 self into his arms and bursting out crying. 
 
 The old man soothed her with caresses and baby 
 talk, such as he used to comfort her with when she 
 was a little girl, and when she became quiet he 
 
Polly. 219 
 
 handed her to her door as if she had been a duch- 
 ess. The house was soon quiet, except that once 
 the Colonel heard Polly walking in her room, and 
 mentally determined to chide her for sitting up so 
 late. He, however, drifted off from the subject 
 when he heard some of his young mules galloping 
 around the yard, and he made a sleepy resolve to 
 sell them all, or to dismiss his overseer for letting 
 them get out of the lot. Before he had quite deter- 
 mined which he should do, he dropped off to sleep 
 again. 
 
 It was possibly about this time that a young man 
 lifted into her saddle a dark-habited little figure, 
 whose face shone very white in the starlight, and 
 whose tremulous voice would have suggested a re- 
 fusal had it not been drowned in the deep, earnest 
 tone of her lover. Although she declared that she 
 could not think of doing it, she had on her hat and 
 furs and riding-habit when Bob came. She did, in- 
 deed, really beg him to go away ; but a few minutes 
 later a pair of horses cantered down the avenue to- 
 ward the lawn gate, which shut with a bang that so 
 frightened the little lady on the bay mare that the 
 young man found it necessary to lean over and throw 
 a steadying arm around her. 
 
 For the first time in her life Polly saw the sun 
 rise in North Carolina, and a few hours later a gentle- 
 voiced young clergyman, whose sweet-faced wife 
 was wholly carried away by Polly's beauty, received 
 
22O In Ole Virginia. 
 
 under protest Bob's only gold piece, a coin which 
 he twisted from his watch-chain with the promise to 
 quadruple it if he would preserve it. 
 
 When Charity told the Colonel next morning that 
 Polly was gone, the old man for the first time in fifty 
 years turned perfectly white. Then he fell into a 
 consuming rage, and swore until Charity would not 
 have been much surprised to see the devil appear in 
 visible shape and claim him on the spot. He cursed 
 Bob, cursed himself, Torm, Charity, arid the entire 
 female sex individually and collectively, and then, 
 seized by a new idea, ordered his horse, that he 
 might pursue the runaways, threatened an imme- 
 diate sale of his whole plantation, and the instan- 
 taneous death of Bob, and did in fact get down his 
 great brass-mounted pistols, and lay them by him as 
 he made Torm, Charity, and a half-dozen younger 
 house-servants dress him. 
 
 Dressing and shaving occupied him about an 
 hour he always averred that a gentleman could 
 not dress like a gentleman in less time and, still 
 breathing out threatenings and slaughter, he marched 
 out of his room, making Torm and Chanty follow 
 him, each with a pistol. Something prompted him 
 to stop and inspect them in the hall. Taking first 
 one and then the other, he examined them curi- 
 ously. 
 
 " Well, I'll be ! " he said, dryly, and flung 
 
 both of them crashing through the window. Turn- 
 
Polly. 221 
 
 ing, he ordered waffles and hoe-cakes for breakfast, 
 and called for the books to have prayers. 
 
 Polly had utilized the knowledge she had gained 
 as a girl, and had unloaded both pistols the night 
 before, and rammed the balls down again without 
 powder, so as to render them harmless. 
 
 By breakfast time Torm was in a state of such 
 advanced intoxication that he was unable to walk 
 through the back yard gate, and the Colonel was 
 forced to content himself with sending by Charity 
 a message that he would get rid of him early the 
 next morning. He straitly enjoined Charity to tell 
 him, and she as solemnly promised. "Yes, suh, / 
 gwi' tell him," she replied, with a faint tone of being 
 wounded at his distrust ; and she did. 
 
 She needed an outlet. 
 
 Things got worse. The Colonel called up the 
 overseer and gave new orders, as if he proposed to 
 change everything. He forbade any mention of 
 Polly's name, and vowed that he would send for Mr. 
 Steep, his lawyer, and change his will to spite all 
 creation. This humor, instead of wearing off, 
 seemed to grow worse as the time stretched on, and 
 Torm actually grew sober in the shadow that had 
 fallen on the plantation. The Colonel had Polly's 
 room nailed up and shut himself up in the house. 
 
 The negroes discussed the condition of affairs in 
 awed undertones, and watched him furtively when- 
 ever he passed. Various opinions by turns prevailed. 
 
222 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 Aunt Betty, who was regarded with veneration, 
 owing partly to the interest the lost Polly had taken 
 in her illness, and partly to her great age (to which 
 she annually added three years) prophesied that he 
 was going to die " in torments," just like some old 
 uncle of his whom no one else had ever heard of 
 until now, but who was raked up by her to serve as 
 a special example. The chief resemblance seemed 
 to be a certain "rankness in cussin'." 
 
 Things were certainly going badly, and day by 
 day they grew worse. The Colonel became more 
 and more morose. 
 
 " He don' even quoil no mo'," Torm complained 
 pathetically to Charity. " He jes set still and 
 study. I 'feard he gwine 'stracted." 
 
 It was, indeed, lamentable. It was accepted on 
 the plantation that Miss Polly had gone for good 
 some said down to Louisiana and would never 
 come back any more. The prevailing impression 
 was that, if she did, the Colonel would certainly kill 
 Bob. Torm had not a doubt of it. 
 
 Thus matters stood three days before Christmas. 
 The whole plantation was plunged in gloom. It 
 would be the first time since Miss Polly was a baby 
 that they had not had " a big Christmas." Torm's 
 lugubrious countenance one morning seemed to 
 shock the Colonel out of his lethargy. He asked 
 how many days there would be before Christmas, 
 and learning that there were but three, he ordered 
 
Polly. 223 
 
 preparations to be made for a great feast and a big 
 time generally. He had the wood-pile replenished 
 as usual, got up his presents, and superintended the 
 Christmas operations himself, as he used to do. But 
 it was sad work, and when Torm and Charity retired 
 Christmas Eve night, although Torm had imbibed 
 plentifully, and the tables were all spread for the 
 great dinner for the servants next day, there was no 
 peace in Term's discourse ; it was all of wrath and 
 judgment to come. He had just gone to sleep 
 when there was a knock at the door. 
 
 "Who dat out dyah?" called Charity. " You 
 niggers better go 'long to bed." 
 
 The knock was repeated. 
 
 "Who dat out dyah, I say?" queried Charity, 
 testily. " Whyn't you go 'long 'way from dat do' ? " 
 
 Torm was hard to wake, but at length he got up 
 and moved slowly to the door, grumbling to himself 
 all the time. 
 
 When finally he undid the latch, Charity, who was 
 in bed, heard him say, ''Well, name o' Gord ! good 
 Gord A'mighty ! " and burst into a wild explosion 
 of laughter. 
 
 In a second she too was outside of the door, and 
 had Polly in her arms, laughing, jumping, hugging, 
 and kissing her, while Torm executed a series of 
 caracoles around them. 
 
 "Whar Marse Bob? " asked both negroes, finally, 
 in a breath. 
 
224 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 " Hello, Torm ! How are you, Mam* Charity ? " 
 called that gentleman, cheerily, coming up from 
 where he had been fastening the horses ; and Char- 
 ity, suddenly mindful of her peculiar appearance 
 and the frosty air, " scuttled " into the house, con- 
 veying her young mistress with her. 
 
 Presently she came out dressed, and invited Bob 
 in too. She insisted on giving them something to 
 eat; but they had been to supper, and Polly was 
 much too excited hearing about her uncle to eat 
 anything. She cried a little at Charity's descrip- 
 tion of him, which she tried to keep Bob from see- 
 ing, but he saw it, and had to however, when 
 they got ready to go home, Polly insisted on going 
 to the yard and up on the porch, and when there, 
 she actually kissed the window-blind of the room 
 whence issued a muffled snore suggestive at least of 
 some degree of forgetfulness. She wanted Bob to 
 kiss it too, but that gentleman apparently found 
 something else more to his taste, and her entreaty 
 was drowned in another sound. 
 
 Before they remounted their horses Polly carried 
 Bob to the greenhouse, where she groped around in 
 the darkness for something, to Bob's complete mys- 
 tification. " Doesn't it smell sweet in here?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " I don't smell anything but that mint bed you've 
 been walking on," he laughed. 
 
 As they rode off, leaving Torm and Chanty stand- 
 
Polly. 225 
 
 ing in the road, the last thing Polly said was, " Now 
 be sure you tell him nine o'clock." 
 
 " Umm ! I know he gwi' sell me den sho 
 'nough," said Torm, in a tone of conviction, as the 
 horses cantered away in the frosty night. 
 
 Once or twice, as they galloped along, Bob made 
 some allusion to the mint bed on which Polly had 
 stepped, to which she made no reply. But as he 
 helped her down at her own door, he asked, " What 
 in the world have you got there ? " 
 
 " Mint," said she, with a little low, pleased laugh. 
 
 By light next morning it was known all over the 
 plantation that Miss Polly had returned. The re- 
 joicing was clouded by the fear that nothing would 
 come of it. 
 
 In Charity's house it was decided that Torm 
 should break the news. Torm was doubtful on the 
 point as the time drew near, but Charity's mind 
 never wavered. Finally he went in with his mas- 
 ter's shaving-water, having first tried to establish 
 his courage by sundry pulls at a black bottle. He 
 essayed three times to deliver the message, but each 
 time his courage failed, and he hastened out under 
 pretence of the water having gotten cold. The last 
 time he attracted Charity's attention. 
 
 " Name o' Gord, Torm, you gwine to seal' 
 hawgs?" she asked, sarcastically. 
 
 The next time he entered the Colonel was in a 
 fume of impatience, so he had to fix the water. He 
 15 
 
226 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 set down the can, and bustled about with hypocrit- 
 ical industry. The Colonel was almost through ; 
 Torm retreated to the door. As his master finished, 
 he put his hand on the knob, and turning it, said, 
 " Miss Polly come home larse night ; sh* say she 
 breakfast at nine o'clock." 
 
 Slapbang ! came the shaving-can, smashing against 
 the door, just as he dodged out, and the roar of the 
 Colonel followed him across the hall. 
 
 When finally their master appeared on the portico, 
 Torm and Charity were watching in some doubt 
 whether he would not carry out on the spot his long- 
 threatened purpose. He strode up and down the 
 long porch, evidently in great excitement. 
 
 "He's tumble dis mornin'," said Torm; "he 
 th'owed de whole kittle o' b'ilin' water at me." 
 
 " Pity he didn' seal' you to death," said his wife, 
 sympathizingly. She thought Term's awkward- 
 ness had destroyed Polly's last chance. Torm re- 
 sorted to his black bottle, and proceeded to talk 
 about the lake of brimstone and fire. 
 
 Up and down the portico strode the old Colonel. 
 His horse was at the rack, where he was always 
 brought before breakfast. (For twenty years he had 
 probably never missed a morning.) Finally he 
 walked down, and, mounting, rode off in the oppo- 
 site direction to that whence his invitation had come. 
 Charity, looking out of her door, inserted into her 
 diatribe against " all wuthless, drunken, fool niggers " 
 
Polly. 227 
 
 a parenthesis to the effect that " Ef Marster meet 
 Marse Bob dis mornin', de don' be a hide nor hyah 
 left o'nyah one on 'em ; an' dat lamb over dyah 
 maybe got oystchers waitin* for him too." Torm 
 was so much impressed that he left Charity and went 
 out of doors. 
 
 The Colonel rode down the plantation road, his 
 great gray horse quivering with life in the bright 
 winter sunlight. He gave him the rein, and he 
 turned down a cross-road which led out of the plan- 
 tation into the main road. Mechanically he opened 
 the gate and rode out. Before he knew where he 
 was he was through the wood, and his horse had 
 stopped at the next gate the gate of Bob's place. 
 The house stood out bright and plain among the 
 yard trees ; lines of blue smoke curled up almost 
 straight from the chimneys ; and he could see two 
 or three negroes running backward and forward be- 
 tween the kitchen and the house. The sunlight 
 glistened on something in the hand of one of them, 
 and sent a ray of dazzling light all the way to the 
 old man. He knew it was a plate or a dish. He 
 took out his watch and glanced at it ; it was five 
 minutes to nine o'clock. He started to turn around 
 to go home. As he did so the memory of all the 
 past swept over him, and of the wrong that had been 
 done him. He would go in and show them his con- 
 tempt for them by riding in and straight out again ; 
 and he actually unlatched the gate and went in. 
 
228 In Ole Virginia, 
 
 As he rode across the field he recalled all that Polly 
 had been to him from the time when she had first 
 stretched out her arms to him ; all the little ways 
 by which she had brought back his youth, and had 
 made his house home, and his heart soft again. 
 Every scene came before him as if to mock him. 
 He felt once more the touch of her little hand ; heard 
 again the sound of her voice as it used to ring 
 through the old house and about the grounds ; saw 
 her and Bob as children romping about his feet, and 
 he gave a great gulp as he thought how desolate the 
 house was now. He sat up in his saddle stifferthan 
 
 ever. D him ! he would enter his very house, 
 
 and there to his face and hers denounce him for his 
 baseness : and he pushed his horse to a trot. Up to 
 the yard gate he rode, and, dismounting, hitched his 
 horse to the fence, and slamming the gate fiercely 
 behind him, stalked up the walk with his heavy 
 whip clutched fast in his hand. Up the walk and up 
 the steps, without a pause, his face set as grim as 
 rock, and purple with suppressed emotion ; for a 
 deluge of memories was overwhelming him. 
 
 The door was shut ; they had locked it on him ; 
 but he would burst it in, and Ah ! what was 
 that? 
 
 The door flew suddenly open ; there was a cry, a 
 spring, a vision of something swam before his eyes, 
 and two arms were clasped about his neck, while he 
 was being smothered with kisses from the sweetest 
 
Polly. 229 
 
 mouth in the world, and a face made up of light and 
 laughter, yet tearful too, like a dew-bathed flower, 
 was pressed to his, and before the Colonel knew it 
 he had, amid laughter and sobs and caresses, been 
 borne into the house, and pressed down at the dain- 
 tiest little breakfast-table eyes ever saw, set for 
 three persons, and loaded with steaming dishes, and 
 with a great fresh julep by the side of his plate, and 
 Torm was standing behind his chair, and Bob was 
 helping him to " oystchers," while Polly, with dimp- 
 ling face, was attempting the exploit of pouring 
 out his coffee without moving her arm from around 
 his neck. 
 
 The first thing he said after he recovered his 
 breath was, " Where did you get this mint ?" 
 
 Polly broke into a peal of rippling, deli- 
 cious laughter, and tightened the arm about his 
 neck. 
 
 "Just one more squeeze," said the Colonel; and 
 as she gave it he said, with the light of it all break- 
 ing on him, " Damme if I don't sell you! or, if I 
 can't sell you, I'll give you away that is, if he'll 
 come over and live with us." 
 
 That evening, after the great dinner, at which 
 Polly had sat in her old place at the head of the 
 table, and Bob at the foot, because the Colonel in- 
 sisted on sitting where Polly could give him one 
 more squeeze, the whole plantation was ablaze with 
 "Christmas," and DrinkwaterTorm, steadying him- 
 
230 In Ole Virginia. 
 
 self against the sideboard, delivered a discourse on 
 peace on earth and good-will to men so powerful 
 and so eloquent that the Colonel, delighted, rose 
 and drank his health, and said, " Damme if I ever 
 sell him again ! " 
 
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