2419 
 
 to 2 3 
 
 A DUSKY IDYL 
 
 LAISDEU 
 

 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 DAVIS 
 
/NIRAM 
 
On the wide veranda. 
 Page II. 
 
\ t , :, 
 
 J"^ 
 
 
 
 DUSKY IDYL 
 
 LAISDELL MITCHELL 
 
 AUTHOR OF TONY. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 CHARLES H. BANES 
 
 1420 Chestnut Street 
 i89 5 
 
 LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
Copyright 1895 by the 
 AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY 
 
CO/NTE/NTS 
 
 i 
 
 <A Southern ylome, J 
 
 ii 
 
 A JMelodious J\|igk 23 
 
 111 
 
 41 
 
 IV 
 
 Tlero, 
 
 7 
 
I 
 
 A Southern Home 
 
"Softly tlie evening came. TJie sun from the western 
 
 horizon 
 Like a magician extended his golden wand o" er tJie 
 
 landscape ; 
 Twinkling vapors arose, and sky, and water, and 
 
 forest, 
 Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and 
 
 mingled together." 
 
 Long fr How. 
 
* % " I w I 1Llf ai ' r v ^ as c l ear an d soft, 
 
 , . *k 
 
 and the ^ loW, crooning melody of a 
 
 dusky mother'*! penetrated the sunset splendor. 
 I he fading day had been one of nature's choic 
 est, and it Was a joy to rest, With absolutely 
 nothing to do, on the Wide Veranda of this (5)outh- 
 ern home. 
 
 AS far as eye could reach 
 stretched the estate. | o the 
 % left, standing in stately guard, 
 *. Were the tall, sWeet-scented 
 
 ii 
 
12 NT RAM 
 
 plorida pines, With their crests sWaying majestically 
 in the light evening breeze. \n the distance could 
 be seen, like a rift in the clouds, the glimmer of 
 the laqoon as the sun tenderly kissed the Water 
 
 <J e/ 
 
 good-night. 1 o my right, as | idly enjoyed my 
 pipe in a cosy corner, Were the cabins of the 
 colored people. JV|cmy of these had been ruined 
 "when the J\orth and the e)outh had parted," 
 but Were now completely rebuilt and made pleas 
 antly habitable by the general, who insisted that 
 the people Would give better Work when Well 
 housed and fed. 
 
 I he general had purchased the Island some 
 time during the early eighties, when it Was in a 
 most forlorn and unpromising condition; since then 
 he had spared neither pains, thought, nor money 
 to render it a model plantation in eVery respect. 
 
NIRAM 13 
 
 Tjis efforts on their behalf, as Well as in the 
 improvement of the property, Were most thor 
 oughly appreciated by the blacks, who thought 
 no Work or trouble too great to take for " de 
 qen'al." 
 
 d 
 
 I he house too had undergone repairs, and 
 Was now restored to its former attractiveness as 
 an old-fashioned manor of the true, rambling, 
 erratic, Southern style. |t bore distinct traces 
 of the Varying taste of the many generations 
 which had added to and enlarged the original 
 structure. QfCich one of the rooms Was large, 
 bright, and cheery. J\|o modern dust-distribut 
 ing furnace openings disfigured the Walls, but 
 hospitable grate fires bade the guest a pleasant 
 Welcome and gaVe additional charm to the sur 
 rounding cjuaintness. <All the furniture, which 
 
i 4 NIRAM 
 
 Was solid, generous, and stable, had been re- 
 polished and Was again in use. | he hard-Wood 
 floors Were covered With treasured rugs, fairly 
 hoary With beauty-increasing age. 
 
 'Almost every one of the oldest rooms pos 
 sessed a secret panel, oddly carVed, as Were 
 indeed, all the others, and many Were their con 
 jectured usages. [n some of these hiding-places 
 had been stored the rugs; in others Were found 
 quaint, old-time silver, blackened With age; in one 
 or two some old family portraits had been dis 
 covered, bearing the name of yiolbein or Van 
 ||)yck, and in the darkest part of another recess, 
 Was found, in an old cedar chest, a complete 
 dinner set of almost priceless "grape" porcelain. 
 
 )n one, which Was indeed, hardly more than 
 a bo*, beinq but fourteen inches square, Was an 
 
 e) 
 
NIRAM 15 
 
 old letter, falling apart from the Very Weight of 
 its oWn yellowness, bearing the misty date of 
 "1724," which had been discovered and deciphered 
 but a feW days before my arrival. J\ear it Was 
 lying a ring holding a rare jeWel set in the dull 
 gold. Within could be read the faint shadows 
 of the Words "<Amor omnia Vincit." But the 
 little ring Was silent, and sacredly treasured its 
 life-story, made sWeeter by the memory of the 
 loVe of long ago. 
 
 Jiere and there the armorial bearings of the 
 first settlers told their story of a braVe and de 
 termined ancestry. [n a feW places Was carVed 
 the crest, two displayed Wings, each bearing a 
 corrugated sickle, and in dim, old-time lettering 
 could be read the suggestive motto, " [ch Woll." 
 
 Altogether it Was an ideal retreat from the 
 
1 6 NIRAM 
 
 busy life of the World in which to restfully while 
 aWay the hours as they Vanished in the eVer-floWing 
 glass, and to Watch the sun radiantly disappear 
 Without taking any "thought for the morrow." 
 
 J\lot the least attraction Was the pastoral 
 simplicity of the life. peW class distinctions 
 annoyed the help, but the blacks enjoyed many 
 unaccustomed privileges, and in their turn readily 
 responded to any Wish of the general. c^ach 
 family had its oWn cabin, and Was as Well taken 
 care of as had been the more fortunate slaves 
 before the War, and yet reVeled in the freedom 
 bequeathed to them in the immortal sitfty-three. 
 When the toil for the day Was oVer, and the 
 evening repast enjoyed, in front of many cabins 
 Would be gathered little groups, while the air 
 Would be filled With the half-monotonous melodies 
 
NIRAM 17 
 
 in which the heart of the J\egro so delights. 
 1 he banjo and the "hoe-doWn" played no un 
 important part, for the happy, shallow J\|egro 
 nature thought of little except to extract the most 
 from the present. 
 
 |n the cabin nearest the manor, behind a 
 Wide-spreading magnolia tree, lived two old blacks 
 With their grandson, 5 Ad'niram Uu'son. \ hey 
 had been carried into slavery from the happy 
 freedom of ^Africa, and still bore the numerical 
 names bestoWed upon them as they had been 
 marched from the hold of the slaVe-ship. JVlany 
 Were the tales of horror they could relate of 
 that neVer-to-be-forgotten journey, but which they 
 determinedly kept from others, for the recital could 
 be of no use and Would only harrow feelings to 
 no purpose. 
 
1 8 NIRAM 
 
 u ^e^tus" ne\?er could forget that "tejb' de 
 Wah, sab," he had been "JMassa's conf'dential 
 man, sah/' nor did he hesitate to regale the 
 general With bits of his oWn Wisdom, "in season 
 and out of season." pis nearly eVery remark 
 Was prefaced by the only quotation he had eVer 
 learned, but the source of which | Was neVer 
 able to ascertain 7 " I imes an' tides Waits fo' no 
 man, sah." 
 
 "Isrjma," his Wife, Was in delighted charge 
 of the culinary department. Tier skill Was neVer 
 doubted, either in cooking or singing, and in the 
 former had indeed passed almost into a proVerb 
 among the younger black Women, who aspired to 
 nothing better than to cook like f\unt [srima. 
 
 1 he grandson Was a child of much loVe and 
 sorrow. pis mother's life had been the guerdon 
 
NIRAM 19 
 
 for his; and ere two moons had passed oVer the 
 little J\|egro, his father, one of the bright, stalwart, 
 skilled overseers, succumbed to cramps in the glit 
 tering, shimmering bay, and the babe neither 
 knew nor realized its loss. 
 
 J\|iram Was an individual lad; gentle, braVe, 
 patient, and always cheerful, he Was a great 
 favorite With his people, who are distinctively 
 creatures of sunshine. <At the age of five, when 
 alive With the strength of childhood, an injury to 
 that most Wonderful of possessions, the spinal 
 column, had prevented him from Walking. The 
 available local skill had done nothing for him, and 
 thus the years had been passed in helplessness. 
 But in spite of his sufferings he Was the light and 
 sunshine of not only his oWn home, but of many 
 near it, With a determination far beyond his 
 
20 NIRAM 
 
 station and years, he seldom permitted himself to 
 express his pain in the presence of others, and not 
 eVen his grandmother, who loVed him so, appreci 
 ated the extent of his suffering and consequent 
 braVery. jiis eyes Were soft and lustrous and 
 black ; the features Were molded after the (Cau 
 casian, and possessed a contour of refinement which 
 Was in strange incongruity With his humble sur 
 roundings. Tie had a receptive intellect, and 
 JVliss [Dorothy, the general's youngest daughter, 
 discovering this ; as Well as his intense desire to 
 learn, had been spending some of her unoccupied 
 time, since her return from college, teaching him, 
 that the time might not pass quite so slowly. 
 Hie intuitively understood and appreciated her in 
 tention, and With all the energy of his years applied 
 himself to his studies With flattering progress. 
 
NIRAM 
 
 21 
 
 |n the evening the Weird, lingering melodies 
 
 Would 
 
 en- 
 
 thelis- 
 
 Were 
 trill of 
 
 With the 
 charm 
 
 of another 
 clime. But 
 from no 
 direction 
 Would come 
 such sounds as from 
 the home of co)e>?tus ; for 
 there, when the anqel lamps 
 
 V I 
 
 twinkling into sight, and the 
 the nightingale lent its charm to 
 
22 NIRAM 
 
 the half silence, Isrima, With her little lad in her 
 capacious arms, Would sit and sing, With all the 
 ferVor of her great mother-loVe, and the abandon 
 of the true J\|egro to the seductiveness of sound. 
 Tier song could easily be heard on the Veranda, 
 and the Voices of the other singers made a pleas 
 ant accompaniment. <7\boVe all things else she 
 loVed the Weird, minor strains, and often Would 
 she be joined in her singing by J\|iram, whose 
 Voice Was a sWeet, clear contralto. Seldom could 
 he be persuaded to sing alone, but nevertheless, 
 he possessed, locked safely in its ebony casket, 
 that rare treasure the poWer of intelligent, 
 sympathetic singing. |n him Was combined in 
 a truly Wonderful manner the crooning, rhythmic 
 poWer of his people, and the pure, accurate, 
 pleasure-giving tones of the whites. 
 
II 
 A Melodious Might 
 
" Sweetest melodies 
 
 Are those tJiat are by distance made more sweet" 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
_ ^ 2 ^ 
 
 Or had just come to 
 the Veranda after 
 supper, and could distinctly 
 hear the clear Voice of Isrima 
 as she sang to her loVed one. 
 [n the feW days already 
 passed | had become strange 
 ly interested in her boy, and 
 / had made quite an effort to learn 
 concerning him and his injury that 
 possioie. I instinctively felt, Without any 
 ground for belief that in some Way 1 should be 
 permitted to relieve him. JV|y life for many 
 years had been spent among children, in the en- 
 
 deaVor to alleviate their sufferings, and I desired 
 
 25 
 
 Was possible. 
 
26 NIRAM 
 
 to test my alleged skill on J\|iram. JV]y oWn 
 boy I ony, who had whistled himself into my 
 heart, Was then at school, and | Was With the 
 general in response to a most urgent invitation 
 to come doWn for a fortnight's shooting, in 
 which the Island abounded. 
 
 I he air, | remember, Was Very still that 
 evening, sWeet and fragrantly transparent, and 
 the general, With the p a| "ty of merry young 
 people, had gathered on the other side of the 
 house, and comparatively speaking, I Was alone, 
 With my pipe and thoughts of the little black, 
 the protege of JVjiss l)orothy than whom a 
 sWeeter girl neVer lived. 
 
 While thus musinq [ Was suddenly recalled 
 
 QJ e/ 
 
 to my immediate surroundings by hearing, rising 
 round and full, in strong, rich cadenzas, aboVe 
 
NT RAM 27 
 
 the low monotone of the blacks' singing, in a Voice 
 of rare sweetness and poWer, but untrained, the 
 Words : 
 
 ''Way doWn upon de e)uWannee Ribber, 
 
 par, fa r, ' Way, 
 
 l$)ere's whar my heart am turnin' eber, 
 Dene's whar de ole folks stay. 
 
 "'All up an' doWn de whole creation. 
 
 @)adly I roam, 
 
 e)till longin' fur de old plantation, 
 <An' fur de ole folks at home. 
 
 U( AH de Worl' am sad an' dreary, 
 
 Qfb'ryWnar | roam, 
 
 h, darkies, how my heart groWs Weary, 
 par f'om de ole folks at home." 
 
28 NIRAM 
 
 I bent forward to listen closely. <As I did 
 not at once recognize the Voice | concluded that it 
 must be some Visitor at one of the cabins. <|)ust 
 whence the sound came 1 could not immediately 
 determine, and while Wondering, like the bubbling 
 of happy Waters came the rollicking sounds of 
 
 " I hab a yarn | Wants ter tell, 
 
 <Amo, emo, imo, We, 
 'Bout de boy dat rang de bell, 
 
 <Amo, emo, imo, We. 
 pe rang de bell Wid all his might, 
 
 <An' den he Vanished out ob sight! 
 
 f) 
 We heerd him a singin' 
 
 <As he Went frough de air 
 <7\mo, emo, imo, We, 
 IDis 's de las' you'll see ob me.'* 
 
decided to slip aWay softly, 
 and putting up my meerschaum, 
 /l'\ i ^ fearing the light Would betray 
 
 my approach, I sauntered quietly into 
 the dusk, seeking the shelter of the magnolia 
 row, as it led toward the cabins. 
 
 1 he night, as [ Well remember, Was truly one 
 of surpassing beauty. |juna rode in majestic 
 loveliness across the sapphire Vault aboVe, and in 
 her train, like courtiers to a queen, Were myriads 
 of sparkling satellites. E\?en as I looked a 
 
 meteor fell athwart the beauty, and the supersti- 
 
 29 
 
3 o NIRAM 
 
 tion of the blacks recurred to me, as almost 
 unconsciously, I murmured, "(yod pity him." 
 por you must knoW 7 that at sight of a falling 
 star they most firmly believe some soul is Winging 
 its Way into the unknown not the bright, glori 
 ous "Hereafter, but the dark, tortuous paths of 
 the Blackness, and they say, or think, u (&od 
 pity him." 
 
 " ll)e moon am brightly shinin', 
 
 ll)e stars am in de sky; 
 l)e mawkin'-bird am singin' 
 
 ll)e 'gator am bery nigh. 
 Re, ro, ri, rum, fol de rol ; 
 
 1 ra la la, tra la lol ; 
 Re, ro, ri, rum, fol de rol, 
 | ra la la, tra la lol." 
 
NIRAM 31 
 
 I he chorus suddenly ceased, for many lips 
 Were, | knew, saying the little prayer for the 
 departing one, whose path Was thus marked as 
 We gazed. In the stillness of the night, from 
 among the pines whose fragrance scented the 
 air, rose the song of the nightingale. And who, 
 having heard, has not stood entranced when 
 listening to the melody poured so lavishly forth 
 from this least attractive of nature's songsters. 
 J\owhere is sweetness so Vocal, or melody so 
 bewitching, as in the early evening of the tropics, 
 when the Very earth-sounds are hushed in etf- 
 pectancy of this solo, and the air is heaVy With 
 the perfume of the foliage. Tlere, indeed, man 
 believes he must be nearer (yod than he eVer can 
 be in the still, cold, une^pressiVe J\|orth where 
 nature shoWs her charms but for a short season, 
 
32 NT RAM 
 
 reserVinq her rarest jewels to be displayed in the 
 heart of the always-summer-land, where, if any 
 where in the World, the " pountain of external 
 Youth" ought surely to be found. 
 
 <A moment after the roundelay Was completed 
 from the dimness near me came the old favorite 
 of J\|ecjro and White alike: 
 
 "I'm dreamin' now ob *pallfe ; 
 
 Sweet Tjallie, sWeet pallie, 
 I'm dreamin' noW ob Jidllie, 
 
 pur de thought ob her am one 
 
 dat neber dies. 
 She's sleepin' in de Valley, 
 De Valley, de Valley, 
 <An' de mawkin'-bird am singin' 
 
 whar she lies. 
 
NIRAM 33 
 
 " Lfisten ter de mawkin'-bird, 
 Lfisten ter de mawkin'-bird, 
 De mawkin'-bird still singin' o'er 
 
 her grabe. 
 
 Lfisten ter de mawkin'-bird, 
 Lfisten ter de mawkin'-bird, 
 o)t\\\ singin' whar de Weepin' 
 
 WilloWs Wabe." 
 
 "Hardly had the last clear note died aWay ere 
 the deep tones of e)2tus 5 \?oice Were heard in 
 admonition : 
 
 " ' 1 imes an' tides Wait fur no man/ 
 JNiram 
 
 CJnheeding, and interrupting this prelude to 
 an utterance of Wisdom, the sprightly Voice con 
 tinued : 
 
34 NIRAM 
 
 " l)e 'gator calls me ober in de 'goon; 
 1 sees his eyes by de light ob de moon. 
 
 I quess he's hollow an' Wants his dinner 
 <j 
 
 ||)ut he don' get a bit ob dis yere sinner! 
 
 p I' 11 i . " 
 pur | se all right 
 
 "eNiram, my lad, | really t'inks dat 
 
 '"I'm de happy, happy daddy ob a coon: 
 Eyes like diamonds, teeth like pearls, 
 <An' dose little, dinky curls. 
 Lfittle han's an' little feet, 
 h, 1 tells you my darlin's sWeet! 
 I'm de happy, happy daddy ob a coon! " 
 
 cl)e>?tus laughed. Tie could not help it, and 
 his mirth Was contagious. poWe^er, he once 
 more began on the interrupted sentence: 
 
NIRAM 35 
 
 1 YOU had jes' better go ter sleep, fur 
 
 "My lub's brack ez she kin be, 
 An' she t'inks a heap ob me. 
 ll)ancin' eyes an' corkscrew curls, 
 JV|ake her jes' de bes' ob gurls! 
 
 Oh, [jizbeth Ann, | lubsyou! 
 
 h, Lfizbeth Ann, | (ubsyou! 
 
 (f)et de day an' I'll be dar, 
 
 pup, [j-izbeth Ann, | lubsyou!" 
 
 JVlany of eNiram's ditties, of which he pos 
 sessed a Well-nigh inexhaustible supply, Were, as I 
 afterward learned, peculiar to the J\|ecjroes of the 
 Island. J\owhere else through the Southland 
 haVe | eVer heard them sung. estrange Q s they 
 Were at first, frequent repetition soon familiarized 
 me With them. And, eVen now, by closing eyes 
 
36 NIRAM 
 
 and ears to the surrounding influences, I can easily 
 imagine myself back among the melodies and 
 aromas of the Island. 
 
 The old man Was almost Worsted, but per 
 tinaciously determined to complete his sentence, 
 like the famous perr JMeyer. The intervals of 
 song had no apparent effect upon its original 
 structure, for he proceeded, unmoVed: 
 
 " - 1 don't Wants you ter sing any mo' 
 ter-night." 
 
 Softly, sWeetly, like a passing breath, came 
 the Words, qaininq Gradually in Volume as the 
 
 ' d) o) <) eJ 
 
 melody rolled on : 
 
 " I'm trabelin' bac' ter Di*ie, 
 
 JV|y step am slow an' feeble; 
 I prays de |_for ter help me, 
 <An' keep me f'om all ebil. 
 
NIRAM 37 
 
 <An' should my strength forsake me, 
 Den kin' friends cum an' tak' me, 
 JMy heart's turned bac' ter [Dixie, 
 <An* [ mus' go. 
 
 " I' se gWine bac' ter IDbtie, 
 
 ['se gWine bac' ter llfeie, 
 
 I se gWine whar de orange blossoms grow, 
 pur I hears de chillen calling 
 1 see de sad tears fallin', 
 
 <JV[y heart's turned bac' ter IDiXie, 
 
 A ' I ' " 
 f\n 1 mus go. 
 
 por a moment old e)e^tus Was silenced, for 
 this Was his acknowledged favorite. But his 
 loVe Was strong in his determination to do what 
 he considered Was best for his boy. 
 
38 NIRAM 
 
 "What's de matta Wid you, J\|iram, dis 
 night? lljon' you know you mus'n't sing so 
 much. What Would JMassa DOC say if he 
 done heard you singin' noW, when you Wouldn't 
 
 sinq fur him de t'other day?" 
 
 <j ' <j 
 
 "0h, gran'pap, jus' one mo' song, 'fo' | goes 
 ter bed. It's de only time [ kin sing, when 
 nobody knoWs who | is. <Uus' one, gran'pap, 
 please." 
 
 o5e>?tus Was no more proof against the Wiles 
 of the one he lo\?ed than are others, and With 
 a half-grunt, as much as to say, "Well, ef you 
 Will hex? your Way, heV it! " he returned to the 
 solace of his corn-cob and patiently Waited the 
 boy's Will. 
 
 I hen rose the minor tones, full of sweetness 
 and With the echo of tears in them : 
 
NIRAM 39 
 
 "h, de days am long an' dreary, 
 JViy life am sad an' Weary, 
 I'm Waitin' fur de JMassa 
 
 1 er cum fur me. 
 pe'll tak' me home ter glory, 
 
 f ah, de JMassa Will ! 
 jle'll tak' me home ter glory, 
 cip de golden hill ! " 
 
 <A silence followed the singing, unbroken for 
 a few moments until the glorious, inimitable trill 
 of the nightingale soared aloft from among the 
 pines. 
 
 "J\|oW, gran'pap, |'se ready. 1 ake me in, 
 please," came the Words from jNiram, and the 
 Voice Was tired and lifeless, while 1 thought 1 
 detected pain in the tones. 1 hen 1 knew why 
 
40 NIRAM 
 
 he had sung so much he Was fighting ! <^\nd 
 he Was Victorious, but at the expense of nearly 
 all his reserve strength. JMy heart Warmed 
 toward the little blacl^ lad for his braVery, and 
 after all, the color of the skin makes no differ 
 ence in blood or feelings, and JNjiram Was a 
 hero, in that he conquered an intangible but 
 a II -powerful foe. 
 
Ill 
 Mram 
 
" . . , From a humble cottage a hero often springs' 
 
 Latin Proverb. 
 
mornincj, after 
 the "Eloise" 
 had departed With 
 her merry freight, | 
 
 *. , . 
 
 *f\ sauntered toward the cabin. 
 oDeXtus had gone With the general 
 ' one or two of the men to hunt 
 in the lagoon, which contained a full 
 eVery size, color, and temper, and 
 proved a neVer-failing source of interest. Isrima, 
 
 as 1 knew, Was in the manor, concocting many 
 
 43 
 
 an 
 
 gators 
 supply of 
 
44 NIRAM 
 
 and luscious dainties for the eager palates on 
 their return in the evening. eNiram, then, Would 
 be all alone, and We could haVe a pleasant little 
 time together. <And so I thought it a good 
 time to see him and perhaps find out if 1 could 
 help him. 
 
 (grossing the threshold I saw him lying on 
 the improvised easy-chair, With his back toward 
 the door, reading a recently acquired copy of 
 "Zig-zag Sourneys." Every now and then a 
 smile, half-sad, and yet not at all dissatisfied, crept 
 oVer his face. "pe had not heard my entrance, 
 and for a moment or two I silently Watched his 
 reflection in the small mirror. ^Apparently having 
 finished a chapter, he closed the book, With a 
 little sigh, and began singing, in a sWeet, plaintive 
 undertone : 
 
He closed the book . . . and began to sing." 
 Page 44. 
 
NIRAM 47 
 
 "Den, oh, i se er-comin' ! I kin heardeWatah flow 
 
 I'se er-comin' dough |'se ole an' lame an' po' ; 
 
 Pur dere's nuffm' lack de joy, lack de sorrer, 
 
 dat [ knoW, 
 In de cabin by de Jvlassysippi sho'. " 
 
 Intuitively feeling that the lad Was blue 1 re- 
 solved to interrupt his train of sad thoughts, 
 (jluietly slipping outside | began to whistle the 
 first old college song that came to my memory, 
 Walking briskly into the room a moment later. 
 1 he effect Was eVen as | had hoped, and the 
 little, black face brightened Visibly, while the Voice, 
 speaking Very slow in the effort to be correct, said: 
 
 a h, doctor, hoW glad I is that you haVe 
 come. I Was a-gettin' Very lonesome." 
 
 11 What haVe you been reading, JNjiram?" 
 
48 NIRAM 
 
 "ne of the 'Ziq-zaq' books. JVliss Dor' thy 
 
 oJ oJ v 
 
 loaned it to me t'other day. I like them all 
 pretty Well, an' the people too, 'specially Tom. 
 Don't you, doctor?" 
 
 The effect of JVliss Dorothy's patient teach 
 ing Was plainly Visible in the lad's endeavor to 
 aVoid the patois of his people, hoWeVer much he 
 might speak like them when among them. 
 
 "Yes, I do. Tony has been reading them 
 aloud during his last Visit home and insists that 
 some day, when he is through school, We two 
 shall travel everywhere, just as they did." 
 
 " poW scrumptious! But he kin go whar 
 he pleases now! It mus' be awful nice to Walk 
 an' run like the other boys do," and a quickly 
 suppressed sigh parted his lips. 
 
 the Way, J\|iram, did I eVer tell you 
 
NIRAM 49 
 
 what I ony says they sometimes have for breakfast 
 at school?" 
 
 o, sah." 
 
 Ven and earth and shoe-blacking!' 1 
 I he large eyes fairly stretched their amaze 
 ment as the lad gasped : 
 
 it R\ J. 9 " 
 
 lljat so ( 
 
 ' Yes. I hose are the boys' names for apples, 
 fried potatoes, and coffee." 
 
 "Well, I rather guess they nebber had none 
 o' (^randmam Rrima's cookin' did they, doctor?" 
 a j\|o, indeed, or they Would neVer ha\?e thought 
 of such names." 
 
 "(yrandmam says she's gWine to have ^heavenly 
 hash' fur lunch to-day." 
 
 It Was my turn to be nonplussed. 
 1 TjeaVenly hash?' 
 
50 NIRAM 
 
 "Yes, sah," and J\|iram laughed heartily. 
 "I Won't tell you what it are, but you Will fin 
 out after a while." 
 
 a j\|iram, you think as other boys do, even 
 if you do not play ball and run and jump, as 
 they do; now what is your idea of a hero? 
 JVlost boys haVe one, and 1 Want to know yours." 
 
 Tie Was silent a few moments. pis hands 
 lay listlessly holding the book, and his eyes Wan 
 dered over the pleasant Vista seen through the 
 Window. prom the distance came the mellowed 
 sound of men's Voices as they sang at their Work. 
 But J\iram, uttery oblivious to his surroundings, 
 Was evidently thinking deeply. When he spoke, 
 it Was Very slowly, and as one who Weighed eVery 
 Word, lapsing more and more, as he proceeded, 
 into the dialect of his people. 
 
NIRAM 51 
 
 "I t'ink dot a hero should be braVe an' strong 
 an' good, an' if he eVer has any pain to keep 
 it to hisself, like the boy JV|iss IDor'thy Was tellin' 
 me 'bout t'other day. Tie Was a boy-hero, j 
 t'ink. <An' then he ought to help people, pe'ticu- 
 
 la'ly ole people, an' But, oh, doctah, 
 
 why does you ask me dis, fur I kin nebber do 
 anyt'ing, 'cept, p'raps, not tell grandmam when 
 de pain am Very bad! Crf I Was only strong 
 an' Well, an' eVen ef I is black, doctah, I Would 
 try ter do, oh, so much good. I Would do like 
 '(^treat-heart ' did, an' de giant, who Was re 
 named ' (Christopher/ Yah," and his Voice Was 
 low, as he added, giving his testimony to a new 
 hope recently born Within him, "| Would try ter 
 be mo' like de JVlassa (Christ, fur he Was de 
 Very bes' hero. <An' he nebber t' ought ob hisself." 
 
52 NIRAM 
 
 "What Would you say if 1 Were to tell you 
 that you could be a hero?" 
 
 "hj doctah," and the lad fairly quivered in 
 his pleasure, while his eyes sparkled With a new 
 light, as 1 continued : 
 
 "Do you remember JNjanning Tspppezoon, and 
 hoW braVe he Was?" 
 
 "Yes, sah. JVliss IDor'thy to!' me 'bout him 
 t'other day. pe Was another hero." 
 
 U( 7\nd do you remember the story of hoW the 
 general our general saved his regimental colors 
 during the War, when he Was but a mere boy, 
 by crawling along the ditch right under the fire 
 of the enemy?" 
 
 "Yes, sah," Wonderingly. 
 
 "<And ha\7e you forgotten what I told you the 
 other day, that JVliss Dorothy neVer said one 
 
NIRAM 53 
 
 Word when the painful operation Was performed 
 upon her eyes, when she Was a Very little girl?" 
 
 "J\jo, sah," and the eyes grew big With the 
 light of a daWning hope, while the lips became 
 tense, and the hands Were strained in their grasp, 
 each of the other c 
 
 "<And do you think of any one you know, 
 who is ill or deformed, who Would be Willing 
 to undergo a great deal of pain, if he Was told 
 he Would be Well and straight afterward?" 
 
 I here Was no v'ocal reply to this question, 
 but the gleam in the eyes told of a great resolve 
 being born Within the ebony casket in the heart 
 where the blood Was as rich and strong as that 
 of one born to the purple. 
 
 "<And noW, listen carefully; Would you be 
 Willing to let me examine your back it may hurt 
 
54 NIRAM 
 
 you a little, or perhaps a Very, Very great deal 
 and see if 1 think anything could be done for you ? 
 YOU know that 1 Will be as careful as possible," 
 
 "When, doctah?" 
 
 "<And you Will not say one Word to [srima 
 or SeXtus about it until 1 give you permission?" 
 
 "J\lo, sah." 
 
 "Then I think 1 Will make the examination 
 at once.' 
 
 "I t'ink, JVlassa Hoctah," and the Words came 
 Very slowly and softly, "dat I Kin bar anyt'ing now! " 
 
 <As 1 turned toward the bed to arrange it, 
 like a clarion cry, strong and clear and ringing, 
 came the couplet: 
 
 "It mus' be now de ^Kingdom's comin' 
 <An' de yar ob ^lubilo!" 
 
NIRAM 55 
 
 I hen there followed silence, broken only by 
 the hum of the song of the far-distant Workers. 
 
 | he difficulty, [ soon learned, Was caused by 
 muscular contraction, and could be easily, though 
 painfully, remedied. 1 \eporting this fact to J\|iram, 
 his reply Was characteristic : 
 
 "<|Jus' as you say, JV|assa Doctah. I'se 
 Willin'. |'se gWine ter be bra\?e, even ef de misery 
 do come. <An' ef de good JV|assa Wants ter heV 
 me now, I'se ready ter go. <An' ef I gets 
 Well- -" 
 
 (Quietly the preparations progressed for the 
 operation, and one or two physicians from the 
 nearest city Were invited to assist me. [srima 
 and e)e)?tus Were still kept in ignorance of our 
 plan, in accord With the decision reached by 
 the general. J\iram Was quietly happy, while 
 
5 6 NIRAM 
 
 a new gleam lurked in his eyes, and his joy 
 Would often burst from his lips in the melodies 
 of his people. 
 
 When the eventful morning arrived, after the 
 "Eloise" had steamed aWay for my confreres, I 
 told pYima that J\liram Would spend the day 
 With me, and then, sauntering out, 1 neared the 
 cabin. 
 
 floating through the magnolias came the Word 
 less melody of a Wild, old African chant, brought 
 from her birthland by [?rima and taught to 
 J\|iram. The minor tones held a strange, 
 insinuating sadness, like the loW-Voiced moaning 
 of the Women as their Warriors fathers, husbands, 
 brothers, sons, lowers assembled for the last time 
 .before going to battle. Almost imperceptibly the 
 sound grew stronger, and its tenor changed, while 
 
NIRAM 57 
 
 the regular tramp of the men, the discords of 
 the tam-tams, and the screech of the white owl 
 their bird of good omen could be detected as 
 they passed on into the distance and out of sight. 
 <A confused dissonance, sullen, threatening, and 
 aWe-inspiring, suggested the echo of the far-off 
 battle din. Abo\?e this Was heard one solitary 
 note of triumph, followed by a Weird prean, which 
 rang forth clear, sharp, shrill, and almost demoni 
 acal in its fierce, intense, but Wordless, expression 
 of joy. | hrough the return march, inseparably 
 interWoVen With the stranqe, exultant chorus, rose 
 
 Qj ' 
 
 the mourners' Wail for those left lying in their 
 last sleep on the field of carnage. <As they 
 neared the Village the Women caught up the strain, 
 mingling their moaning With the funeral chords, 
 and thus making a sombre accompaniment, at 
 
58 NIRAM 
 
 great Variance With the strong, strange, jubilant 
 tones as the tribe chorused its Valor. With the 
 fortissimo shout of Victory the Voice abruptly ceased, 
 and the scene created by the mystic power of the 
 barbaric cantata, suddenly dissolved, and sWeet 
 and low and Witchingly harmonious, came the 
 distant song of the simply decked queen of the 
 Southern night. 
 
 J\iram Was tenderly borne to my room, and 
 his eyes Were Very happy, while his face Was 
 strangely passive. <A moment or so later, while 
 We Were yet alone, and | Was busy With my 
 case, like a half whisper, | heard him say: 
 
 "ll)ear JVlassa <Desus, you knoWs who I is, 
 an' what a Wuthless little boy | is, an' how 
 much I Wants ter do suthin'. JVlassa H)octah 
 says he kin cure me. (Dear JMassa Jesus, 
 
NIRAM 59 
 
 please let him do dat t'ing so ez | kin do suthin' 
 fur you. <An' dear JV|cissa <J>Jesus, please help 
 J\|iram ter be braVe. | Wants so much ter be 
 strong an' Well. IDat's all. 
 
 <At last, the operation over, and it Was longer 
 than We had anticipated, and much more painful, 
 but neVer a Word, groan, or murmur Was allowed 
 to escape from the firmly set lips, J \iram Was 
 placed in a plaster cast, in which he Was to 
 remain between two and three months, under the 
 Watchful care of my colleague, ||)r. TsJ 
 
 I Wo months later | boarded the staunch old 
 "@ate Kity" and sailed for the Island. 
 
 1 hin, and Very Weak, but straight, perfectly 
 straight, J\|iram when released Was able to take 
 
60 NIRAM 
 
 a step OP so alone, and then slipping back into 
 his chair he sang clearly, softly, Worshipful ly, 
 yleber's beautiful hymn : 
 
 "j~loly, holy, holy, Lor' 0od Almighty! 
 
 Early in de maWnin* my song shall rise ter thee ; 
 poly, holy, holy, mercifu' an' mighty! 
 
 God in three persons, blessed Trinity!" 
 
 , 
 
 
A Hero 
 
A lad of metal, a good boy." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
m 
 
 Was the gladdest, blithest time 
 of the year when ne^t 1 tarried 
 . for a rest on the Island. 
 Probably time had Wrought 
 many changes but they 
 J had only served to en- 
 / ' ha nee the beauty of the 
 place, and all Was like a d& 
 lightful, enchanted land. 1 he 
 !-*' magnolias Were in rich, luxurious 
 
 bloom; the air Was heaVy With the fragrance of 
 the orange blossoms, and each day invited one 
 to reVel in the "dolce far niente" of the tropics. 
 
 The circle in the manor had changed, growing 
 
 63 
 
64 NIRAM 
 
 ever more attractive and complete, while Jyliss 
 liJorothy now responded to a sweetly lisped 
 " mamma" from a petite, happy maiden whom 
 We called (yladys. 1 he general Was as argu 
 mentative as eVer, believed as firmly in the future 
 of the Republican party, still religiously read the 
 J\|eW York " 1 ribune," and stooped a trifle more, 
 which made me feel that We Were both able to 
 review many more summers than in our hearts, 
 boyish yet in many Ways, We cared to acknowl 
 edge, pis keen, blue eyes twinkled as of yore, 
 and the fierce mustachios could not quite hide the 
 full, merry lips, almost Womanish in their delicate, 
 high-bred outlines. 
 
 [srima and e)e^tus, With the dignity befitting 
 their advanced aqe. dictated to their little court 
 
 <D ' 
 
 from the Veranda-throne. @)e>?tus' time Was 
 
NIRAM 65 
 
 about evenly divided between a loVe of everting 
 authority, and the laborious spelling out of the 
 Words of his 1 estament. jsrima Was an e)?cel- 
 lent example of what Wives should be in submit 
 ting to their husbands' authority, and never pre 
 sumed to differ from the expressed sentiments of 
 her other half except in the culinary realm, and 
 there she brooked neither suggestion nor rival. 
 
 eNiram, older grown, Was now, as eVer, the 
 joy and pride of these old people, who conversed ' 
 eloquently and untiringly of him. [n their eyes 
 his observations Were doubly refined Wisdom, his 
 Wishes laWs. Tie held the position once occu 
 pied by his father, and filled it most satisfactorily. 
 JV|oreoVer, he Was a natural leader, although in no 
 Wise a dictator, and possessed a peculiar, beneficial 
 influence oVer his people, but retained Withal, a 
 
66 NIRAM 
 
 remarkably pure and guileless (Christian character; 
 sWeet, yet strong; noble, yet humble; Willing to 
 be less than the least, but unswerving in his prin 
 ciples, and firm in his advocacy of the truth. 
 
 In the softness of the fading light as We Were 
 enjoying the Veranda, the Words floated toward 
 us, and although years had elapsed I recognized 
 the Voice of J\iram, as he sang one of his boyish 
 favorites : 
 
 "I'se'd happy, happy, niggah boy! 
 1 plays all de day; 
 I sleeps all de night 
 <An' Wakes up Wid de maWnin' light." 
 
 I he dusk hid him from my sight and a 
 moment later the singing died aWay into silence. 
 
NIRAM 67 
 
 Lfittle (^ladys, the daintiest,, quaintest of 
 
 maidens Was an object of deep and solicitous 
 
 interest during her daily trip to "<f)hut-eye | oWn." 
 
 1 he fairies of that realm Were eVer anxious to 
 
 lure he^ to their homes and 
 
 . 
 
 iflB IP '*H^f e nurse must 
 
 ,.*mr eVer be on the 
 
 alert to inter 
 cept their fasci 
 nations and restrain them 
 from leading her into danger. portunately her 
 strange guides had neVer so led her as yet, con 
 fining their Wiles to the afternoon nap, doubtless 
 because they too rested at night; but the 
 constant Vigilance Was neVer related. 
 
 1 he nursery Was a comparatively neW addi 
 tion to the house and extended on to the edqe 
 
68 NIRAM 
 
 of the Veranda roof, around which ran a slight, 
 ornamental cornice. Ver this, adding much to 
 the picturescjueness of the home, clustered the 
 graceful clematis and Wistaria. | his slight pro 
 jection Was a favorite resting-place for the doVes, 
 and many bright-tinted humming birds made their 
 nests amonq the Vines. I he qeneral had once 
 
 o) of 
 
 or twice remarked that the cornice needed strength 
 ening, owing to the gradually increasing Weight 
 of the Vines, but nothing had as yet been done 
 toward that end. 
 
 One afternoon, a feW days later, as he and 
 I Were Watching a sharply contested game of 
 tennis, my attention Was attracted toward the 
 house, and | saw a small, white-robed figure 
 emerqinq from the Window, and stand erect on 
 
 a) <?J 
 
 the cornice. 1 he curls sWayed gently in the 
 
NIRAM 69 
 
 breeze, and the small hands hung easily at her 
 sides, as she took one step and then another and 
 another. 
 
 |t all took place so quickly that | hardly knew 
 what to do. J\|o one appeared to notice the 
 little maid but myself. When aWake, (yladys 
 Was rather timid, and to see her Walking on the 
 frail cornice, at such a dizzy height, sent a thrill 
 through me, for | knew not what moment she 
 might aWaken, and | dared not think of the 
 possible consequences. Where could (hloe be? 
 
 But e\?en as | questioned Within myself, a 
 light, active, figure bounded across the laWn and 
 entered the house. <A moment later J\iram's 
 head appeared at the Window, but as he meas 
 ured the height With his eyes, he drew back. 
 1 he small figure mo\?ed on step by step. I hrough 
 
70 NIRAM 
 
 eNiram's brain rushed the thought of the Weak 
 ness of the cornice on which the child Was 
 Walking. |t bore her Weight safely, Would it 
 bear his? J\|eVer mind, he must get JViiss 
 (yladys ere she Wakened, for she Would surely 
 be frightened and fall and <And yet, if 
 
 he did Venture out, might not Would he not fall? 
 t and thus tWo lives Would be sacrificed. <A fall 
 from there to the ground Would mean either 
 deformity for life and he knew Well, oh, so Well, 
 what helplessness Was or death. (ould he 
 Venture? Did he consider his life as Worth 
 more than that of the child he, a poor, black 
 man? And the general had done so much for 
 him. Yes, he Would, must, go, and suiting the 
 action to the Word, he drew himself slowly out 
 of the Window, but his courage failed him, and 
 
NIRAM 71 
 
 he crouched back, quivering With fear. \ hen 
 he saw (^ladys. @)he had nearly reached the 
 
 corner where the cornice ended, and forgetting 
 his oWn imminent danger and the risk he Was 
 
72 NIRAM 
 
 hazarding, he began to hum a dreamy, crooning, 
 rhythmic, Wordless lullaby one of (Gladys' particu 
 lar favorites. 1 he sound penetrated to the con 
 sciousness of the child, and she paused. With 
 a feW quick, noiseless steps JNjiram Was near 
 her, still softly singing. (yladys turned, and 
 extending her arms as she always did when 
 Wishing to be taken up, opened her eyes, into 
 which fright leaped With rapid strides. J\|iram 
 caught her ere she realized where she Was, and 
 seemed hardly to touch the cornice as he bore 
 her to the Window where (Shloe stood. 
 
 If, as the poet sings, '" | ime is counted by 
 heart-throbs," We who Watched the courageous 
 deed, and the return of the lithe figure with its 
 precious burden along the giddy height of the 
 roof, lived cycles in those few moments. 
 
NIRAM 73 
 
 <As Gladys Was handed to her nurse a loud 
 cry of delight, relief, and joy burst from us all. 
 But it Was quickly changed to one of horror, for 
 eVen as JMiram released his hold on the child, 
 the cornice could no longer bear the strain, and 
 breaking, precipitated him backward! 
 
 Almost simultaneously We all rushed forward, 
 fearing the Worst. fortunately, nay, providen 
 tially, a large magnolia tree the pride of the 
 general's heart caught him and thus broke his 
 fall, and saVed him from almost certain death. 
 JVlany eager, Willing hands quickly extricated him, 
 and eVery Voice hailed him as a hero. 
 
 por a few seconds he stood erect and silent, 
 hardly seeming to understand and personally apply 
 the high encomiums bestowed upon his daring, self- 
 forgetful deed, for We all realized something of the 
 
74 NIRAM 
 
 danger attending such an act. | Watched him 
 narrowly. Would his innate modesty allow him to 
 disclaim the praise so lavishly and justly tendered? 
 
 <And then he spoke, slowly, and With the 
 inseparable drawl of the genuine Southern J\egro, 
 lapsing into the familiar speech of his childhood: 
 
 "eNo, I'se not a hero. l$)on' call me one. 
 I'se but a po' black man. What I'se done is 
 nuthin'. I Was 'most scared white when 1 done 
 got ter de Window. <An' a hero's nebber scared! 
 J\|o, I isn't one! " 
 
 But the strain had been too much, the re 
 action came, and an instant after the last Word 
 Was uttered J\liram lay unconscious at the feet 
 of his - benefactor, the general. 'As he Was 
 tenderly raised, the dark eyes opened slowly, and 
 the lips parted to say: 
 
NIRAM 75 
 
 a j\|o, |'se not a hero. |'se jus' J\|iram. 
 lat's all." 
 
THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW 
 
 RENEWED BOOKS ARE SUBJECT TO IMMEDIATE 
 RECALL 
 
 LIBRARY, UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, DAVIS 
 
 Book Slip-25m-6,'66(G3855s4)458 
 
N9 530984 
 
 PS2419 
 
 Mitchell, Lo ^23 
 
 Niram. N5 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 DAVIS