1SITY OF CA RIVERSIDE LJBRAPY iiiiii] HI 3 121001817 2476 LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA RIVERSIDE <3n Ole Yizc/inia " ' Now, Sam^ from dis lime yon belong to yo 1 young Mars* Chan n in' ' py f T notitfvs Nel/6n R WCIinediyF /^. c < o T i, /4-.R.F /~ & Howard Pyle and $ ^ ,/ /r| Jel/6n HJU New York Charles Scribnerls Sons O Copyright, 1887, 1892, 1896. by Charles Scribner's Sons TROW DIRECTORY PRINTINO AND BOOK BINDING COMPAXT HEW YORK People i6 fragmentary record, of tfieit life 16 dedicated (oontervtA (kan : Page ale of Old ^i-iginia, , 1 / Plantation Scko t 4q of tke c Wa^^ . a <7 cfbecollection, . . . dt of Sliu6tzation6 " ' Now, Sam, from dis time you belong to yo' young Marse Channin,'" Frontispiece Facing 41 ' / mek you a present to yo' famly, seh ! ' . . 26 " De moon come out, an* I cotch sight on her stanin dyah in her white dress" 34. "Miss Anne she hed done tu'n away her Jiaid" . 38 11 1 see Marse Chan read dat letter over an over" 44 " / seen he eye light on her as she came down the steps smilin" 58 " We come *way next mornin'" 68 " Marse George lead her out on de porch" ... 72 "Hit begin so low ev'ybody had to stop talkin'" . 88 x List of Illustrations Facing page 11 Miss Charlotte she 'mos' 'stracted" 92 " She talk mighty sorf but mighty 'terminated like," no " ' We claim no kinsmen among Virginia's enemies} says Meh Lady'' 118 " Oh ! she sut'n'y did pomper him, readin' to him out 0' books, an' settin by him on de poch" . 124. "An' he ivuz holdin' her hand, talkin' right study" 132 " An' sometimes I'd bring de mule for her to ride home ef she been up de night befo' wid Mistis" 144. In mild weather lie occupied a bench outside, . . 184 " Nem mine" he said, " / comin' right down in de summer to buy you back" 192 The gigantic monster dragged the hacked and head- less corpse of his victim up the staircase, . . 206 A man in it, standing upright, and something lying in a lump at the bow, 222 " Drinkwater Torm fell sprawling on the floor" . 228 "'f will!' he said, throwing up his head" . . . 248 List of Illustrations xi facing fage " There he was standing on the bridge just before her? . . . 256 " The young man found it necessary to lean over and throw a steadying arm around her" . . 262 " He made Torm, Charity, and a half-dozen younger house-servants dress him" 266 MARSE CHAN MARSE CHAN A Tale of Old Virginia ONE afternoon, in the autumn of 1872, I was riding leisurely down the sandy road that winds along the top of the water-shed be- tween 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 which had dwelt upon it and whose only avenue of communication with the outside world it had formerly been. Their once splendid mansions, now fast falling to decay, appeared to view from time to time, set back far from the road, in proud seclusion, among groves of oak and hick- ory, now scarlet and gold with the early frost. Dis- tance was nothing to this people ; time was of no consequence to them. They desired but a level 4 Marse Cban 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 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 covered the broad fields gave it an air of desolation which greatly excited my interest. Entirely oblivious of my proximity, the negro went on calling " Whoo-oop, heah ! " until along the path, walking very slowly and with great dignity, A Tale of Old Virginia 5 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 speaker, who immediately proceeded to take the rails down, talking meanwhile : " Now, I got to pull down de gap, I s'pose ! Yo' 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' gwine 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 6 Marse Cban 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 buyed our place, but his name done kind o* slipped me. I nuver hearn on him befo'; I think dey's half-strainers. I don' ax none on 'em no odds. I lives down de road heah, a little 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, dis- mounting. \ Instantly, and as if by instinct, the negro stepped ^forward and took my bridle. I demurred a little ; but with a bow that would have honored old Sir A Tale of Old Virginia 7 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 forgit 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 like 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' de year arfter my sister Nancy married Cun'l Chahmb'lin's Torm, 'bout eight years arfterwoods. " Well, when Marse Chan wuz born, dey wuz de grettes 1 doin's at home you ever did see. De folks all hed holiday, jes' like in de Chris'mas. Ole mars- ter (we didn' call 'im ole marster tell arfter Marse Chan wuz born befo' dat he wuz jes' de marster, so) well, de marster, his face fyar shine wid pleas- ure, an' all de folks wuz mighty glad, too, 'cause dey all loved ole marster, and aldo' dey did step aroun' right peart when de marster was lookin' at 'em, dyar 8 Marse Chan warn' nyar ban' 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* 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 wropped up in flannens an' things, an' sez, ' Heah he, 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 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 boss fur 'im some- times ; but he didn' know all de chil'en by name, dey wuz so many on 'em), an' he sez, 'Come up heah.' So up I goes tippin', skeered like, an* de marster sez, * Ain' you Mymie's son ? ' ' Yass, seh,' sez I. ' Well/ sez he, ' I'm gwine to give you A Tale of Old, Virginia 9 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 sezj * carry 'im in de house. ' An' he walks arfter me an' opens de do*s fur me, an' I kyars 'im in 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- servant. " 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 (measuring with his hand a height of some three feet), 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 io Marse Chan beyant de creek, an' dyar we went ev'y day, 'cep 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- ticement o' Miss Anne. " Mr. Hall, he teach 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' keep' house for 'im ; an' he wuz so busy wid poli- tics, 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' retched 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 teck 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' nuttin' but A Tale of Old Virginia n a baby hardly, an' Marse Chan he wuz a good big boy 'bout mos' thirteen year ole, I reckon. How- s'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' see, Cun'l Chahmb'lin's place j'ined ourn, an' it looked jes' ez nat'chal 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' mar led, not den, no mo'n I thought 'bout mar'yin Judy when she wuz a little gal at Cun'l Chahm'blin'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 poke' he finger at Miss Anne, and arfter school Marse Chan he axed 'im out 'roun' hine de school-house out o' sight, an' ef he didn' whup 'im! " (Marse Chan, he wuz de peartes* scholar ole Mr. 12 Marse Cban Hall hed, an' Mr. Hall he wuz mighty proud on '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. But dis day when dey come to de creek, it had done washed all de lawgs '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 was 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 rid 'im to school de day arfter he come, so proud, an' sayin' how he wuz gwine to let Anne ride behine 'im. When he come home dat evenin* he wuz walkin'. ' Hi ! where's yo' pony ? ' said ole marster. ' Did he A Tale of Ola Virginia 13 fling you ? ' c 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' nex' 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 'spressaly named in de note whar Ned brought ; an' arfter din- ner 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 haws wid a bran'- new saddle an' bridle on him ; an' he gits up an' meks Marse Chan a gre't speech, an' presents 'im de little haws ; 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 haws, an' dey goes to ride, while de grown folks is a-settin* on de poach an' a-laughin' an' chattin' an' smokin' dey cigars. " Dem wuz good ole times, marster de bes* &am\ A uver see ! Dey wuz, in fac' ! Niggers didn' hed / nothin' '/ all to do jes' hed to 'ten' to de feedin' an'/ cleanin* de hawses, an' doin' what de marster tell 'em / to do ; an' when dey wuz sick, dey had things sont Marse Cban < 'em out de house, an' de same doctor come to see ;'em whar 'ten' to de white folks when dey wuz po'ly, Jan' all. Dyar warn' no trouble nor nuttin'. "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 letters, 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 know wherr Marse Chan lived at home or over at Cun'l Chahmb'lin's ! He wuz over dyah constant ! 'Twuz al'ays ridin' or fishin' down dyah in de river ; or sometimes he'd 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' 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 turr. 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 A Tale of Old Virginia 15 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 come from. Ole marster he didn' like nobody to sell niggers, an* knowin* dat Cun'l Chahmb'lin wuz sellin' o' his, he writ an' offered to buy his M'ria an' all her chiren, 'cause she hed mar'ied our Zeek'yel. An' don' yo' think, Cun'l Chahmb'lin axed ole marster mo' 'n th'ee niggers wuz wuth fur M'ria ! Befo' old marster buy her, dough, de sheriff come 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 was agwine to co't, off an' on, fur some years, till at lars' de co't decided dat M'ria belongst to ole marster. Ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin den wuz so mad he sued ole marster for a little slipe o' Ian' down dyah on de line fence, whar he said belongst to him. Evy'body knowed hit belongst to ole i6 Marse Chan marster. Ef yo' go down dyah now, I kin show it t< yo', inside de line fence, whar it hed done been uve sence long befo' Cun'l Chahmb'lin wuz born. Bu Cun'l Chahmb'lin was a mons'us perseverin' man an' ole marster he wouldn' let nobody run over 'im No, dat he wouldn' ! So dey wuz agwine down t< co't about dat, fur I don' know how long, till ol marster beat 'im agin. " All dis time, yo' know, Marse Chan wuz agoin back'ads and for'ads to college, an' wuz growed up ve'y fine young man. He wuz a ve'y likely gent' man ! Miss Anne she hed done mos' growed up to< wuz puttin' her hyar up like ole missis use' to pu hern up, an* 'twuz jes' ez bright ez de sorrel's man when de sun cotch on it, an' her eyes wuz gre't bij dark eyes, like her pa's, on'y bigger an' not so fierce an' 'twarn' none o' de young ladies ez purty ez sh wuz. She an' Marse Chan still set a heap o' sto' b; one 'nurr, but I don't think dey wuz easy wid eacl urr ez when he used to tote her home from schoc on he back. Marse Chan he use' to love de ve'; groun' she walked on, dough, is my 'pinion. Heh His face 'twould light up whenever she come inti chu'ch, or anywhere, jes' like de sun hed come th'oi a chink on it sudden'y. A Tale of Old Virginia 1 7 " Den ole marster los' he eyes. D' yo' ever heah 'bout dat ? Heish ! Didn' yo' ? "Well, one night de big barn cotch fire. De stables, yo' know, wuz onder de big barn, an' all de hawses 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, an' dey got a heap on 'em out ; but de ker'ige-hawses dey would n' come out, an* dey wuz a-runnin' back' ads an' for' ads inside de stalls, a-nik- erin' an' a-screamin', like dey knowed dey time hed come. Yo' could heah 'em in dyah so pitiful, an' pres'n'y ole marster said to Ham Fisher (he wuz de ker'ige-driver), 'Go in dyah, Ham, an' try to save 'em ; don' let 'em bu'n to death.' " An' Ham he went right in. " An' jes' 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 begin to lick out onder de eaves over whar de ker'ige-hawses' stalls wuz. An' all of a sudden ole marster tu'ned an' kissed ole missis, who wuz standin' dyah 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 1 8 Marse Chan 'im. WeJl, seh ! I nuver 'spects to heah tell Jedg- ment 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', kyain' Ham Fisher in his arms, come ole marster, wid his clo's all blazin'. Dey fling water on 'im, an' put 'im out ; an', ef you b'lieve me, yo' wouldn' a-knowed 'twuz ole marster. " Yo' see, he hed done find Ham Fisher done fall down in de smoke right by the ker'ige-haws' 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, an' to keep de flame from gittin' down Ham Fisher' th'ote he hed teck oflf his own hat and mashed it all over Ham Fisher' face, an' he hed kep' Ham Fisher from bein' so much bu'nt ; but he wuz bu'nt dreadful ! He beard an' hyar wuz all nyawed oflf, an' he face an' han's an' neck wuz scorified tur- rible. 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 A Tale of Old Virginia 19 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 teck charge of de plantation arfter dat ; an' I use' to wait on 'im jes' like when we wuz boys togerr ; 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. *' IJe__suj^n^y f wuz good to .me* Nuttin -nuver made no diffunee '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 haws an' ride up de road out o' sight, an' we wuz out in de field a-slid- in' an* a-slidin', when up comes ole marster. We start to run ; but he hed done see us, an' he called us to come back ; an' sich a whuppin' ez he did gi' us ! 20 Marse Cban " Fust he teck Marse Chan, an' den he teched me up. He nuver hu't me, but in co'se I wuz a-hol- lerin' 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 was tunin' 'im ; but soon ez he commence warmin' me an* I begin to holler, Marse Chan he bu'st out cryin', an' stept ight in befo' ole marster, an' ketchin' de whup, said : " * Stop, seh ! Yo' sha'n't whup 'im ; he b'longs :o me, an' ef you hit 'im another lick I'll set 'im 'reel' " I wish yo' hed see ole marster ! Marse Chan he warn* mo'n eight years ole, an' dyah dey wuz ole marster stan'in' wid he whup raised up, an* Marse 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' breke 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 'bout it dat evenin', an' laughin' 'bout it. " 'Twan' so mighty long arfter dat when dey fust got to talkin' 'bout de war. Dey wuz a-dictatm' A Tale of Old Virginia 21 back'ads an' for'ds 'bout it fur two or th'ee years, To' it come sho' nuff, you know. Ole marster, he wuz a Whig, an' of co'se Marse Chan he teck 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 happen 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 tu'n 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 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 haws rar he head up right sudden at night when he see somethin' comin' to'ds 'im from de side an' he 22 Marse Chan don' know what 'tis ? Ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin he went right on. He say ole marster hed teach 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 scuse' ole marster 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, jis' like lightnin' and thunder when they hit right at you ! I heah 'im say : " ' Cun'l Chahmb'lin, what you says is false, an' yo' knows it to be so. You have wilfully slandered one of de pures' an' nobles' men Gord ever made, an' nuttin' but yo' gray hyars protects you.' "Well, ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin, he ra'ed an' he pitch'd ! He say he wan' too ole, an' he'd show 'im so. Cf ' Ve'y well," says Marse Chan. " De meetin' breke up den. I wuz hol'in' de hawses out dyar in de road by de een' o' de poach, an' I see Marse Chan talkin' an' talkin' to Mr. Gor- don an* anurr gent'man, an' den he come out an' got on de sorrel an' galloped off. Soon ez he got out o' A Tale of Old Virginia 23 sight he pulled up, an' we walked along tell we come to de road whar leads off to'ds Mr. Harbour's. He wuz de big lawyer o* de country. Dyar he tu'ned off. All dis time he hedn' said a wud, 'cep' to kind o' mumble to hisse'f now an* den. When we got to Mr. Harbour's, he got down an' went in. (Dat wuz in de late winter ; de folks wuz jes' beginnin' 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 ds 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 deah, Marse Chan got down an' walked right slow 'roun' de house. Arfter lookin' roun' a little while an' try in* de do' to see eft 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', rub- bin' de sorrel's nose, he said : ' Have 'em well fed, Sam ; I'll want 'em early in de mawnin'.' " Dat night at supper he laugh an' talk, an* he set at de table a long time. Arfter ole marster went to 24 Marse Cban 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 ain' nuver mention ole Cun'l Chahm- b'lin's name. When he got up to come out to de office in de yard, whar he slept, he stooped down an' kissed 'im jes' like he wuz a baby layin' dyah in de bed, an* he'd hardly let ole missis go at all. <( I knowed some'n wuz up, an' nex mawnin' I called 'im early befo' light, like he tole me, an' he dressed an' come out pres'n'y jes' like he wuz gwine to church. I had de hawses ready, an* we went out de back way to'ds de river. c< Ez we rid along, he said: " ' Sam, you an' I wuz boys togerr, wa'n't we ? ' " ' Yes,' sez I, ' Marse Chan, dat we wuz/ ' You have been ve'y faithful 'to me/ sez he, ' 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 yo' want to.' " Den he tole me he wuz gwoine 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 when I git her ez long ez 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 ve'y long, he n ut de whuppin me, an' all; an' den Miss Charlotte know huccome I ain' gwine stay dat day ; an' she say dee sotney outdone 'bout it. but it too late den ; an' "Unc' Edinburg" 87 Miss Charlotte kyam 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 no- body. An' dee jes done come, she say, 'cause dee had to go 'way roun by de rope ferry 'long o' de 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 el 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 kyam meek no zistance 'tall, an' dis nigger ain' keerin' nuttin 'bout cold den, "An* jes den two ladies come out de carpenter shop an' went 'long to de wash-house, an' Nancy say, 4 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, 88 "Unc* Edinburg" 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 nig- ger 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 house look like it wuz rockin* ; an' presney somebody 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 'bout * You'll ermember me ' 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' 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* " Hit begin so low evybody had to stop talkiri" "Unc Edinburg" 89 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 plead- in'. 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 watch- in' 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 wuffde five dollars. " Me an' Nancy followed 'em tell dee went in de house, an' den we come back to de shop whar de sup- per 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 90 " Unc Edinburg" dat cold night, an' jes as I got to de do 1 Marse George an' Mr. Braxton come out, an' I know torectly Marse George wuz gwine 'way. I seen he face by de light o' de lantern, an' twuz set jes rigid as a rock. " Mr. Braxton he wuz baiggin 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' Rev- eller 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 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 reck- on I better go back. I ax him whar he gwine, an' he say, * Home.' ' Den I gwine wid you,' I says. I " Unc Edinburg " 91 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 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 92 " Unc' Edinburg " 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* 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 hold in' 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 bofe done 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 shufflin' de feets not to meek no noige, an' a little piece o' wet blue silk drapt out he breast whar somebody picked up an' gin Miss Lucy, Miss Charlotte breck right ', "Miss Cliarlotte she 'tnos' 'stracted" " Unc' Edinburg" 93 down agin ; an' some on 'em say she sutney did keer for him ; an' now when he layin' 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 Rev- eller 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. 94 " Unc' Edinburg" " 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 her pra'rs, prayin' for Marse George, whar 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 cravin' 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't gi' 'cross dis time, I'll gin't up.' " Mr. Braxton wuz stand in' nigh de head o' de bed, an' he say, ' Well, by Gord ! he shell 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' " Unc' Edinburg" 95 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.' " MEH LADY MEH LADY A Story of the War : "Y "T TON' dat Phil go 'stracted when he gits a \/\/ pike on de een o' dis feller ! " The speaker was standing in the dog- wood bushes just below me, for I was on the embank- ment, 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 him for a moment in silence, and then said: " Hello ! Uncle, what are you doing ? " " Gittin* fismV-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 at all, ioo Meh Lady suh ; dee done heah dee ma tell how Marse Phil used to git poles right heah 'pon dis heah ridge, an' dee oon' fling a line wid nay urr sort o' pole at all. Dat Phil he mo' like Marse Phil dan he like he pa; sometimes I think he Marse Phil done come back agin he's he ve'y spi't 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- 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 fish 'gins to run ; no suh, dat you cyarn'. Dat Phil, I boun', studyin* 'bout dis pole right now." 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 ain' 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 Meh Lady 101 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 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 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 the 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 102 Meh Lady dee fine he 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 Mis- tis' 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 knows it, an' ef dee don' know it when he come, dee know it p'intedly when he go 'way. books, an* set tin by him on dc /0V//." dyah am' 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, 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' 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 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 helped ouc 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 constant, 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 sat- i26 Meh Lady isfied, layin' dyah wid he gray eyes follerin' her study ev'ywhar she tu'n, jes' like some dem pictures hang- in' up in de parlor. " I 'members de fust day he walked. He done notify her, and she try to 'swade him, but he monsus sot in he mind when he done meek 't up, and she got to gi' in, like women-folks after dee done 'spressify some ; and he git up and walk down de steps, an' '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 an 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, 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 : " * You have a wounded soldier dyah ? ' " An' she say, ' Yes, he's a wounded Federal officer on parole,' and he say, teckin' off he hat : Meh Lady 127 " ' 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 so. 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' dyahsen, an' she git up an' walk right straight in de house wid her head up in de air. He tell her de rebels wuz '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 pes- ter him might'ly ; den Hannah come out, an' he ax her is she see Meh Lady in dyah. Hannah say, 128 Meh Lady 'Nor,' an' den he ax her won' she please go an' ax her to step dyah a minute ; an' Hannah ain' spicion- ate nuttin' and went, an' Meh Lady say, c No, she won',' 'cause he done aggrivate her; an' den he write her a little note an' ax Hannah to gi' her dat, 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'. " Dee 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' Yankees, jes' prowlin' roun' after devilment, 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 come 'long, and tell Meh Lady not to come out ; and down de Meh Lady 129 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 to 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 git up, jes' like all we 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. 130 Meh Lady " Sometimes dee'd git in de boat on de pond, an* she'd row him while he'd steer, 'cause he shoulder ain' le' him row. I see 'em of a evelin' jes' sort o' floatin' down deah onder de trees, nigh de bank, or 'mong dem cow-collards, pullin' dem water-flowers, she ain' got on no hat, or maybe jes' a soldier cap on her head, an' heah '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 'mos' 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, Meh Lady 131 mos' like summer, an' ev'ything sort o' smoky-hazy, like folks bunnin' bresh ; an' one day d' come fum de post-office a letter for de Cap'n, an' he face look sort o' comical when he open it, an' he put it in he pocket ; an' pres'n'y he say he got to go home, he got he exchangement. Meh Lady ain' 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 heah somebody talkin', an' dyah dee wuz right at de gap, an' he wuz holdin' her hand, talkin' right study, lookin' down at her, an' she look- in' 'way fum him, ain' sayin' nuttin', jes' lookin' so miser'ble wid de roses done shatter all over her lap an' down on de groun'. I ain' know which way 132 Meh Lady to tu'n, so I stan' still, an' I heah him say he want her to wait an' le' him come back ag'in, an' he call her by her name, an' say, f Won't you ! ' an' she wait a lit- tle 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 am' 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 her hand an' rar hese'f up sort o' straight, an' say some'n' I ain' meek out 'sep' dat 'twould 'a' been kinder 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 dat 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' to comfort her. " 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, 'Yes, I know I is,' an' he sut'ny wuz sorry to tell me good-by. *M;/' he ivuz holdirf her hand, talkirf right study" Meh Lady 133 "An* Hannah say she done tell me all 'long de chile ain' gwine mortify herself 'bout no Yankee sol- dier, 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 'pear 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 done miss him ; Hannah she worryin' '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 chamber, an' she heah '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 herself; 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 134 Meh Lady dyah an' walk in de hall, so straight, puttin' up he s'o'de, an' when she ain' claim no kin wid him back out de do' so gran' 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 plantation mighty reg'- lar, 'cause de war done 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'y thing, de feed done gi* 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 Gun- boat stock or some'n'. I use' to heah 'em talkin' 'bout it " Den de Yankees come an' got my kerridge- Meh Lady 135 horses ! Oh ! ef dat didn' hu't me ! I am' git over it yit. When we heah 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 anyways, 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 Yankees whar de horses is den she is 'bout dee teckin' 'em. 'Nias he ain' nuverdyah show he face no mo', he went offwid 'em, an' so did two or th'ee mo' o' de boys. De folks see 'em when dee parse th'oo Quail Quarter, an' dee 'shamed to say dee gone off, so dee tell 'em de Yankees cyar' 'em off, but 'twarn' nothin' but a lie ; I know dee ain' cyar' me off; dee ax me ef I don' wan' go, but I tell 'em c Nor/ " Things wuz mons'ous scant after dat, an' me an' 136 Meh Lady 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 curisome thing happen. We had done got mighty lean, what wid our mens an' Yankees 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, tobucket, tobucket, tobucket. I say, 1 Dat horse got heap o' sense ; he know he hot, an' he ain' gwine to 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 laundry, an' come close roun' de house to whar I settin', an' stop, an' I wuz jes' sayin', * Well, ef dat don' beat any horse ever wuz in de wull ; how he know I heah ? ' when somebody Meh Lady 137 say, ' Good-eveninV Um-h ! I sut'n'y wuz disap- p'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 Mistis 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 ' 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, f '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 138 Meh Lady small ; an' I tell him, ' Nor,' dat Meh Lady' room right next to Mistis' dis side, an' he stop an' look at de winder 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 (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 Meh Lady 139 breck her rose-bush an' steal one of her roses, I mighty nigh tell her, an' I would, on'y I don't orn' aggrivate Hannah. You know 'twon't do to aggrivate women-folks. " Well, 'twarn' no gre't while after dat de war broke ; 'twuz de nex' spring 'bout plantin'-corn time, on'y we ain' plant much 'cause de team so weak; stealin' an' Yankee 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 Gord's horse an' mule on de place, 'sep' one ole mule George, whar wuz ole an' bline, an' dee won' have him. Dem wuz tumble 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-sperited but 'cause Richmon' done fall an' Gener'l Lee sur- rendered. Ef dee didn' cry! When Richmon' fall dee wuz 'stonished, but dee say dat ain' meek no dif- funce, 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 140 Meh Lady 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 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 'way, dthough Meh Lady sell some Mistis' dia- monds 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 Cun'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, c Tell him, No.' An* Mistis went over an' kiss her right sorf! Meh Lady 14 l "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' ain' got nobody to wuck it an' no team to wuck it wid, an' we ain' know who it b'longst to, an' hit done all grow up in bushes an' blackberry briers ; ev'y year hit grow up mo' an mo', an' we gittin' 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 dthough. But Mistis ain' know nottin' '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 'sump- 142 Meh Lady tion, an' Meh Lady doin' all she kin to keep 't fum her how po' we is, smilin' an' singin' fur her. She jes' whah herse'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 Mistis' mine, 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' hern anyways, an' her face sort o' light up when she see de gold shinin', 'cause she sut'n'y had use for it, an' she ax me whar I git so much money, an' I tell her some- body 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 me an' her mammy 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 Meh Lady 143 I wan' buy de mule ; an' she say she consider him mine now, an' ef he ain' she gi' him to me, an' I say, nor, I wan' buy him. Den she say how much he wuth, an' I say, he wuth 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 lit- tle piece. I reckon you see it as you come 'long. I ain' b'lieve it when I heah 'em say Meh Lady gwine teach it. I say, f She teach niggers ! dat she ain' ! 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 teach- 144 Meh Lady in' wuz diffunt 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 impident 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' chamber an' lean 'g'inst de do', lookin' out down de lonesome road ; an' de doctor whar come from Rich- mon' 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' he teck her aside, an' tell her she better look mighty good after Meh Lady too ; he say she mos' sick as Mistis, an' fust thing she know she'll be gone too. Dat 'sturb Hannah might'ly. " An" 1 sometimes Pd bring de mule for her to ride home ef she been up de night beftf wid Mist is" Meh Lady H5 " 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', ridin' a sway-back sorrel horse, an' say dee gwine sell de place in 'bout a mont'. Meh Lady hed gone to school, an' I am' 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 146 Meh Lady got, an' her smile meek me mos' sorry like she cryin'. " 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 ain' heah, I went an' knock at de chamber 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 hut 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 Meh Lady 147 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 starve, but she ain' know 'bout 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 diamonds, 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 148 Meh Lady 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 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 ; Han- nah hed done git her in de bed, which wan't no trouble, she so light. She know Meh Lady, do', an' try to speak to her two or t ' 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 young- er'n she look sence befo' de war; an' de neighbors, de few dat's left, an' de black folks roun' come, an' we bury her de evenin' after in the gyardin' 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 Meh Lady H9 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's 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. " 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) ; 150 Meh Lady twuz when she got home she so suffering 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' dyah at de winder o' Mistis' chamber, leanin' her head on her han' an' jes' 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, c I cyarn' neither read nor write, but I can get Meh Lady to write it ; ' an' she say, nor I cyarn', 'cause ain' Mistis done spressify 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 Meh Lady 151 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 furrer'n Lynchbu'g, an' I'll ride de mule to death befo' I git dyah ; be- sides I ain' got nuttin' 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 folks so stingy 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 cyars 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 diff'unce ; she gwine hoe de corn after I gone, an' de chile grievin' so she feared she'll die, an' what good sidin' corn gwine do den ? she grievin' mo'n she 'quainted wid, Hannah say. So I wuz to go to Rich- mon' 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 152 Meh Lady 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 he know I gwine sell him, an' I holler at him right swere like I gwine cut him in two, to fool him ef I kin, an' meek him b'lieve 'tain' nuttin' 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, c 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 ain' had time to study ef I ever see him befo', but I don* think I is. He a mighty straight, fine-lookin' gent'- Meh Lady 153 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, ' In 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 an' cyar him in de stable like I got de corn-house full o' corn. An' when I come out I look, an' dyah he wuz 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' fine 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 wuz quality, I see dat ; I know hit time I look at him settin' dyah so straight on he horse, 'mindin' me of Marse Phil, an' he voice hit sholy wuz easy when he name Meh Lady' name and Mistis'; but I ain' know but what he somebody 154 Meh Lady wan' to buy de place, an' I know Meh Lady am' wan* talk 'bout dat, an' am' wan' see strangers no way ; so I jes' lip out 'cross de fiel' th'oo a nigher 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 mine whar I done heah anybody got voice sound deep an' cler 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 cler as ef she jes' settin' on de gap dyah yistidy wid de rose-leaves done shatter all down 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 Meh Lady 155 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 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 dat's a 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 funiture straight, an' set de table for two, a thing ain' been done not sence Mistis tooken sick ; an' den I see her gwine 'roun' de rose-bushes mighty busy, an' when she sont me in de dinin'-room, dyah a whole parecel 156 Meh Lady 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 am' got more skillets an' spiders on dat fire den I been see dyah for 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 King! 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, c 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, c Nuttin' ; ' an' Hannah say, * 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 Meh Lady 157 pillar right tight, 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' agree- able 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' dat he gwine home, an' he don' reckon he'll ever see us no mo'; an' he say he thought when he come may- be '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 thousand miles fur, he say ; but she got some'n on 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, an' report how we all is ; an' he say 158 Meh Lady he ain' got nuttin' to do now but to try an' reward us all fur all our kindness 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 on her mine ; an' ef he ain' got de dictationment to meek her know, he better go 'long back whar he come fum, an' he better ain' nuver set he foot heah ; an' she say he sut'n'y done gone back sence he driv dem Yankees out de do' wid he s'o'de, an' settin' dyah on he nick-tail 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 Meh Ladv J 59 'long, 'cause ef he ain' gwine be pertector to de chile de plenty mo' sufferin' to be, dat dee pesterin' 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 'long 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 keer 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 recount. An' now he gone she layin' dyah in de gre't 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 chamber 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 160 Meh Lady 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' 'cep' dat de chile seem mighty peaceable, an' she don' know wherr she'll 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' talkin' to her jes' as 'fectionate as ef she b'longst to him an' she ain' say he kiss her, but 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 set- tin' opposite one nurr talkin', an' she po'in out he tea, an' he tellin' her things to make her pleased 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 Meh Lady 161 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 am' 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 rum 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. " I tell him, c In cose, de mule kin stan' it/ " 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' questions 'bout Meh Lady, an' Marse Phil, an' de ole times. 1 62 Meh Lady "We went by de preacher's an' wake him up befo' day, an' he say he'll drive up dyah after breakfast; an' den we went on 'cross to de Co'te House, an' alto- gether '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.' " c Hi ! yes, suh, co'se I knows it,' I says. * Want I right dyah when she born ? Mistis got she an' Marse Phil bofe set down in de book at home.' " 'Well, jes' meek oath to it,' says he, easy like, '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,' I says, * 'cause you can read. I know her age,' I says, ' '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. Meh Lady 163 ' ' Well, nor, suh, dat I cyarn', ' I says. " 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 and 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 larnin', but I know she born on a Sunday de thrashin' -wheat time two year 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 Williamsbu'g, an' de gener'l say he'd 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 tombstone dyah now.' " De Cun'l tu'n roun' an' look at Mr. Taylor, an* 1 64 Meh Lady 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* 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 c 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 brung 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, while I studyin'. " 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 say 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, Meh Lady 165 '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 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 lit- tle 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 impatient 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 am' claim no kin wid him, an' he say he cyarn' intrude on ladies, an' back out de front do' so gran', 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 walked out! 1 66 Meh Lady " 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' she had some roses in her han'. Ef it didn' look like de sun done come th'oo de chamber 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 fan an' little slippers 'bout big as two little white ears o' pop-corn ; an' de dress had sort o' cob- webs 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 on 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 parlor, an' Hannah an' Meh Lady 167 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 gin dis woman to de man to be he wife, he sort o' wait an' he eye sort o' rove to me discomfused 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' 'bout Marse Phil, whar all dead, an' all de scufflin' we done been th'oo, an' how de chile ain' got nobody to teck her part now 'sep' jes' me ; an' now, 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 : "<01e 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 settin' dyah on de front steps, dee voice 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 me kerridge- 1 68 Meh Lady 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 pa; an' little Billy he ain' so ole, but he ain' fur behines 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 OLE 'STRACTED 44 A WE, little Efhum /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 summer 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 plaintive wail rose and fell within with wearying mo- notony. 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 pick- ing in the grass and watching the door, and a runty pig tied to a " stob," were the only signs 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 that she thought it belonged to them. 1 72 Ole 'Stracted 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 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 carefully the ragged shirt she had just taken from the line, and then, after some search, finding a needle and cotton, she drew a rickety chair to the door and proceeded 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 notched pole, 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 Ole 'Stracted 173 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 : ^m.^ *? Jl ; ^1^1 The gigantic monster dragged the hacked and headless corfise of his victim up the staircase. " No Haid Pawn " 207 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 stalk- ing 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, in the full view of the terrified slaves. After these narrations, the con- tinued reappearance of the murderer 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 dykes 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. 208 " No Haid Pawn " The time of my story was 185-. The spring previ- ous continuous rains had kept the river full, and had flooded the low grounds, and this had been followed by an exceptionally dense growth in the following summer. Then, public feeling was greatly excited at the time of which I write, over the discovery in the neighborhood of several emissaries of the underground railway, or as they were universally considered 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 the masters, and more than the usual number of negroes had run away. All, however, had been caught, or had returned home after a suffi- cient interval of freedom, except one who had escaped permanently, 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 Mis- sissippi. 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 character- istics, came principally from the east coast of Africa. They are of moderate stature, with dull but amiable "No Haid Pawn" 209 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 amiability 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 rever- ence. 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, however, that he exercised considerable in- fluence 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 be- yond measure, and they would do anything to con- ciliate him. He had been a continual source of trou- ble and an object of suspicion in the neighborhood 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' swimin' 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 210 "No Haid Pawn 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 population, 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 aus- pices, and he would doubtless have been taken up and shipped off at once ; but when the intruders fled, as I have related, their convert disappeared also. It was a subject of general felicitation in the neighborhood that he was got rid of, and his master, instead of being commiserated on the loss of his slave, was congratu- lated that he had not cut his throat. No idea can be given at this date of the excitement occasioned in a quiet neighborhood in old times by the discovery of the mere presence of such characters as Abolitionists. It was as if the foundations of the whole social fabric were undermined. It was the sud- den darkening of a shadow that always 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 No Haid Pawn" 211 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 got rid of some portion I will not say of all of the superstition of my boyhood. 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 had once mastered me, though, I must confess, I had not entirely shaken off my belief in the existence of ghosts 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 singu- larly 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 Haid Pawn Hum- mock," 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, be- cause of the training of my earlier years, and partly 212 " No Haid Pawn because the marsh on either side of the hummock would have mired a cat. Often, as I watched with envious eyes the wild duck rise up over the dense woods 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 game that floated on its black surface. But some- thing 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 temperature 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 afternoon, 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 makes a swamp, could have penetrated it at all. Even I could never have gotten on if I had not followed the one trail that led into the marsh, the reputed "parf " of the evil spirits, and, as it was, my progress was both tedious and dangerous. No Haid Pawn" 213 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 overhanging branch or a vine swinging from one tree to another would fur- nish a way to some spot where the narrow trail began again. In other spots old logs thrown across the miry canals gave me an uncomfortable feeling as I reflected what feet had last crossed on them. On both sides of this shadowy line the marsh was either an impene- trable jungle or a quagmire apparently bottomless. I shall never forget my sensations as I finally emerged from the woods into the clearing, if that deso- late 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 like eyeless sockets from the leafless trees about it. Only one other clump of trees appeared above the canes* and brush, and that I knew by intu- ition was the graveyard. I think I should have turned back had not shame impelled me forward. 214 "NoHMPawn" My progress from this point was even more difficult 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 hum- mocks, 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 en- deavor 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 uncanny it looked. Canes and bushes grew up to the very door ; the window - shutters hung from the hinges ; the broken windows glared ; 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 No Haid Pawn" 215 side of the house toward where I supposed the " pawn " itself to lie. 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, glancing up through the cane, above me appeared a heavy upright timber with an arm or cross-beam stretching from it, from which dan- gled a long chain, almost rusted away. I knew by instinct that I stood under the gallows where the mur- derer of No Haid Pawn had expiated his dreadful crime. His corpse must have fallen just where I stood. I started back appalled. 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 216 "No Haid Pawn" alternative, but I did not hesitate. Outside I was not even sure that my life was safe. And with extra- ordinary 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 it was to the very threshold, had ascended the sunken steps, crossed the rotted portico, and entered 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 black void where the dark staircase descended to the caverns below. The whole place was in a state of advanced decay; almost the entire plastering had fallen with the damp, and the hall presented a scene of desolation that beggars description. 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 fastened ; " No Maid Pawn " 217 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 charred ends of the logs of wood were yet lying in the chimney corners. To see, still as fresh and natural as though the fire had but just died out, these remnants of domestic life that had survived all else of a similar period struck me as unspeakably ghastly. The bedstead, however, though rude, was convenient as a seat, and I utilized it accord- ingly, 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 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 that latitude, shortly exhaust itself, or, as we say, " blow over " ; but I was mistaken, and as the time passed, its violence, instead of lessening, 218 "No Haid Pawn" increased. It grew darker and darker, and presently the startling truth dawned upon me that the gloom which I had supposed simply the effect of the over- shadowing 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 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 experienced. My mind was filled, not only with my own unhappi- ness, 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, unless some one had seen me as I came that way, was No Haid Pawn, and even if they knew I was there they "No Haid Pawn" 219 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 appre- hension. 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 pes- tilence that had raged afterwards; the bodies carted by scores and buried in the sobby earth of the grave- yard, the trees of which loomed up through the broken window ; the dreadful story of the dead pad- dling 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, and no effort of my will could keep my thoughts from dwelling on it. The terrific thunder, outcrashing a thousand batteries, the roar of 220 " No Maid Pawn " the hurricane 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 suddenly startle me. Once, as the sounds subsided for a moment, or else as I, having become familiar with them, was sinking into a sleepy state, a door at the other end of the hall creaked and then slammed with violence, bringing me bolt up- right on the bed, clutching my gun. I could have sworn that I heard footsteps ; but the wind was blow- ing a hurricane, and, after another period of wakeful- ness and dreadful recollection, nature succumbed, and I fell asleep. I do not know that I can be said to have lost con- sciousness even then, for my mind was still enchained by the horrors of my situation, and went on clinging to them and dwelling upon them even in my slumber. I was, however, certainly asleep ; for the storm must have died temporarily away about this hour without my knowing it. 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 halloo or yell. Although I had been No Haid Pawn'' 221 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 began to renew itself, and in the segment of the circle that I could see along the hall through my door, and, in- deed, out through the yawning window at the end, as far as the black clump of trees 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 sound- ing in my ears. I was endeavoring 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 small, black, with square ends, and with a figure in it, standing upright, and some- thing 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- 222 "No Haid Pawn" 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 boatman 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 oc- casioned, still keeping my face toward that fatal win- dow. 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 cry or halloo, this time almost under the great window. Immediately succeeding 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 thump. It was pitch- dark, but I heard the door pushed wide open, and as a string of fierce oaths, part English and part Creole A man in it, standing uprigJit, ami something lying in a lump at the bow. No Haid Pawn 1 ' 223 French, floated up the dark stairway, muffled as if sworn through clinched teeth, I held my breath. I recalled the unknown tongue the murderer employed ; and I knew that the murderer of No Haid Pawn had left his grave, and that his ghost was coming up that stair. I heard his step as it fell on the first stair heav- ily yet almost noiselessly. It was an unearthly sound dull, like the tread of a bared foot, accompanied by the scraping 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 which jarred the house, 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, clutch- ing in his upraised hand a long, keen, glittering knife on the blade of which a ball of fire seemed to play, stood a gigantic figure in the very flame of the light- 224 " No Haid Pawn " ning, and stretched at his feet lay, ghastly and bloody, a black and headless trunk. I staggered to the door and, tripping over the sill, fell prostrate outside. ******** I have never been able to give a description of the manner in which I escaped from the fearful spot. 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 awful secrets lay buried under its dark waters. POLLY 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 explanation, 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 con- * This spelling is used because he was called " Torm" until it became his name. 228 Polly dition would admit, 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, me- andered to his house in the back-yard, where he pro- ceeded to talk religion to Charity, his wife, as he always did when he was particularly drunk. He was expound- ing 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 con- tinued, 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 wheedling 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." "Drinkivater Torm fell sprawling on the floor." Polly 229 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 mainspring. From tying his shoes and getting his shaving-water to making his juleps and lighting his candles, which was all he had to do, Drinkwater Torm 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 230 Polly return Term'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 applause of every one, and of herself most of all ; and 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 pro- test from anyone but Charity. The Colonel would have given her his heartstrings 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 Polly 231 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 daguerreotype 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, fishing in the creek, and looking as bloom- ing 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 232 Polly 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 neighborhood 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 condemned 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 herself, 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 was a small boy he 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 233 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 any- body 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 spectacles. 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 al- though 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 matter 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 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 234 Polly 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, notwithstanding 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 Drink- water 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, al- though the regular supply was already cut.) And when Charity stepped out of the carriage, 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 back, and Polly 235 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 sit- ting up all night to watch the child, but Charity as- sured 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 snored 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 also, 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. 236 Polly If her taste had been consulted she would have se- lected a crossbow, for it did not make such a noise, and she could shoot it without shutting her eyes ; be- sides that, she could shoot it in the house, which, in- deed, 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 uver made," he said, com- plainingly, to Charity. Fortunately, his eye got well, and it gave him an excuse for staying half drunk for nearly a week ; and afterward, 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 Polly 237 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 forgetfulness 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 vio- lently. She never sucked her thumb after that. This happened out in front of her mammy's house, within which Torm was delivering a powerful exhor- tation 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 after- 238 Polly ward 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 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 some- thing 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. Polly 239 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 de- gree, he had gotten the start which enabled him to complete his studies during the time he was taking care of his mother, which he did 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 Convention, where he made such a reputation as a speaker that the "Enquirer declared him the rising man of the State ; and even the Whig ad- mitted 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 people must have been Democrats, as Bob was elected by a big majority. She wanted to be on the Colonel's side, 240 Polly 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 argument ; at any rate, he generally got very hot. This, however, might have been because Bob was so cool, while the Colonel was so hot-tem- pered. 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 just as good a friend of his as ever ; indeed, she took the trouble to tell her- self 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 every- body. 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," Polly 241 and that " he al'ays handled heself to he raisin'," by which Torm made indirect reference to regular dona- tions made to him by the aforesaid " gent'man," and particularly to an especially large benefaction then lately conferred. It happened one evening at the Colonel's, after dinner, when several guests, including Bob, were commenting on the perfections of various ladies who were visiting in the neighborhood that sum- mer. The praises were, to Term's mind, somewhat too liberally bestowed, and he had attempted to con- sole 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 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 242 Polly 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 somewhat 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 immediately 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 op- posed to it. You know mint never would grow there," he pursued to Polly, who had heard him make the same observation, with the same astonishment, a hun- dred times. " Strangest thing I ever knew. But he's Polly 243 a confoundedly clever fellow, though, Polly," he con- tinued, 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 reflecting 244 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 re- calling each in turn some incident of the old boy-and- girl days. Bob knew the main facts as well as she, but Polly remembered the little details and circum- stances of each incident best, except those about the time they were playing " knucks " together. Then, singularly, 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 recol- lection failed again, and was only distinct about very modern matters. She remembered 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 hav- ing 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 at something, ran away Polly 245 just as the Colonel's voice was heard calling them to tea. Bob was very silent at the table, and when he left, 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. 7 noticed it, and I tell you the fellow's sick. I say he's sick ! " he re- iterated, with a little habit he had acquired since he had begun to grow slightly deaf. " I shall advise him to go away and have a little fling somewhere. 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 246 Polly 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 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, dis- mounted, 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 gentleman 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. Polly 247 That is a safe topic at all times. 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 Phoebe and her numerous corps of ebon and mahogany assistants, 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. Dinner was rather a failure, so far as Bob was con- cerned. Perhaps he missed something that usually graced the table; perhaps only his body was there, while he himself was down at Miss Malviny Pegram's ; perhaps he had gone back and was unfastening an im- pertinent 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 in- 248 Polly stantly divining the matter, and secretly flattering him- self, 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." " The devil you do ! " exclaimed the Colonel. He 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 grow- ing cool as the Colonel became excited. " I love her, and I want her." '* Well, sir, you can't have her ! " roared the Colonel, pulling himself up from his seat in the violence of his refusal. He looked like a tawny lion whose lair had been invaded. Bob's face paled, and a look came on it that the Colonel recalled afterward, and which he did not re- " '/ will!' he said, tin-owing up his head." Polly 249 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 will ! " 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. " 111 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 will have her," he re- peated, 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 atti- 250 Polly tude 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 Polly, who had to steer between two dangers, was compelled 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 mind, and we'll treat his impudence as it deserves," she locked her door care- fully 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 straightened themselves out in some of those mysterious ways in which the hardest knots into which Polly 251 two young peoples' 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 leaving him abruptly in his own house the day before, but forbid- ding him, in both their names, to continue his ad- dresses, 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 a soldier on review, erect, expectant, and a little pale. The Colonel, who had almost forgotten his " imperti- nence," 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 252 Polly 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 Bob a smile which would set things straight, caught his eye only at that second, and felt rather than saw the change in his attitude and manner. She tried to throw him the smile, but it died in her eyes, and even after her back was turned she was sensible of his defiance. 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 attempt which Bob made to loosen them failed disastrously, and the Colonel, who was the best-hearted man in the world, but whose prej- udices were made of wrought iron, took it into his head that Bob had insulted him, and Polly's indirect efforts at pacification 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, and that it was his duty to pro- tect her against herself, which, man-like, he proceeded Polly 253 to do in his own fashion, to poor Polly's great dis- tress. 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 re- member the time when she did not have Bob. But he had never said a word of love to her in his life. To be sure, 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 his silence 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 unhappy ! 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 so to herself; it was 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 understood, and the blessings would reach him just the same. The summer had gone, and the Indian summer had 254 Potty come in its place, hazy, dreamy, and sad. It always made Polly melancholy, and this year, 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 blooming as they had been, and even her great dark 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, notwithstanding that Dr. Stopper was coming over 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 urging him to come the next morning to break- fast. The doctor came, and spent the day : examined Polly's lungs and heart, prescribed out-door exercise, and left something less than a bushel-basketful of medi- cines 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 extensive tour, embracing all the United States and Canada, and in- Polly 255 tended to cover the entire winter and spring following. Polly, who had stood as much as she could stand, finally rebelled, and had with flashing eyes and man- tling cheeks espoused Bob's cause with a courage and dash which had almost routed the old Colonel. " Not that he was anything to her 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 afterwards. 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 take the prescribed exercise, which would excuse her from taking the medicines, she filled a little basket with goodies to take old Aunt Betty at the Far Quarters ; and thus it hap- pened, that, as she was coming back along the path which 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 carefully 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 256 Polly happened, that just as she was thinking how kind he had been about making 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- wards; 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 afterwards, and that it was because he would not listen to her explana- tion ; 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 im- provement was so apparent that the Colonel called Charity in to note it, and declared that Virginia coun- try 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, " There he was standing on the bridge just before her." Polly 257 happy maiden that stood before it now and smiled at the beaming face which dimpled at its own con- tent. Old Betty's was a protracted pleurisy, and the good things Polly carried her daily did not tend to shorten the sickness. Ever afterwards she " blessed the Lord for dat chile " whenever Polly's name was mentioned. She would doubtless have included Bob in her benison had she known how sympathetic he was during this period. But although he was inspecting that bridge every afternoon regularly, notwithstanding Polly's oft-reit- erated wish and express orders as regularly declared, no one knew a word of all this. And it was 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 had said, " Why, hoity-toity ! the young rascal's cause seems to be thriving." She had been 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 258 Polly and shoot him ! " The pronouns in our language were probably invented 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 she was. She was firmly resolved when she set out that after- noon to see old Betty, who was in everybody's judg- ment 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, hav- ing 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-confidence which 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-reliant, and yet so gentle, she could not but listen to him. Still she refused and she never did consent ; she forbade Polly 259 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 succumbed. It seemed as if something had come between her and her uncle. She no longer went about singing like a bird. She suffered under the sense of being misunder- stood, 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. Finally Stopper was sent for. Polly, who, to use Charity's ex- pression, was " pestered till she was fractious," rebelled flatly, and refused to keep her bed or to take the medi- cines prescribed. Charity backed her. Torm got drunk. The Colonel was in a fume, and declared his 260 Polly intention to sell Torm next morning, 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 proposed to spend the winter looking after some plantations 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 instructions 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 marvelous 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 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 Polly 261 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 circumstances she would have enjoyed the trip immensely ; 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 Malviny 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 aVay thus, 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 set- tled on it. Then he took her hand and began to ex- plain everything to her. He told her that he had loved her all her life ; showed her how she had inspired 262 Polly him to work for and win every success that he had achieved ; how it had been her work even 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 earnest, 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 none 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 Colonel in- sisted 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 retiring 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 as- ' The young man found it necessary to lean over and throw a steadying arm around her" Polly 263 tonished the Colonel by throwing herself 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 calm he handed her to her door as if she had been a duchess. 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 dis- miss his overseer next day for letting them out of the lot. Before he had quite determined 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 trem- ulous voice would have suggested a refusal 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, indeed, really beg him to go away ; but a few minutes later a pair of horses can- tered down the avenue toward the lawn gate, which 264 Polly 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 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 until he could redeem 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 con- suming 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, cursed Torm, Charity, and the entire female sex individually and collectively, and then, seized by a new idea, he ordered his horse, that he might pursue the runaways, threatened an immediate sale of his whole plantation, and the instantaneous 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-ser- vants dress him. Polly 265 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 Charity 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 curiously. " Well, I'll be ! " he said, dryly, and flung both of them crashing through the window. Turning, 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 to do so. "Yes, suh, 7 gwi' tell him," she replied, with a faint tone of being wounded at his distrust ; and she did. 266 Polly She needed an outlet. Things got worse. The Colonel called up the over- seer 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 whenever he passed. Various opinions by turns prevailed. 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 re- semblance 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. "//